


Civilization Redeemed

by Irony_Rocks



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-29
Updated: 2010-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irony_Rocks/pseuds/Irony_Rocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Epitaph One fic. The end of the world is here. This is how they deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Civilization Redeemed (Complete)  
 **Fandom:** Dollhouse   
**Rating:** NC-17  
 **Word Count:** 30K  
 **Main Characters** : Adelle, Dominic, Topher, Claire, Victor, Sierra, Echo, Boyd, and a little Alpha.  
 **Pairing(s):** DeWitt/Dominic, background Sierra/Victor, Boyd/Claire  
 **Warning(s)/Spoiler(s):** Sex, violence, and language; spoilers for all of s1, including _Epitaph One_.  
 **Summary:** _Epitaph One_ fic. "We must forge new alliances because the old ones will get us all killed. And in case it's escaped your notice, our choices in allies grow thin with each day that passes."  
 **Beta:**   
**Disclaimer:** Dollhouse does not belong to me.  
 **A/N:** Obviously, I tried to keep canon with a lot of stuff for _Epitaph One_ , but here and there, I took artistic liberties. Like, for instance, Adelle's office is located in the underground facilities and the view it gives is all fake.

* * *

Adelle wasn't the type to flinch against accusations, but today had been an exceptionally bad day with a long list of harsh realities coming to a head. She poured herself a second glass of chilled vodka, and turned back to the gentlemen currently lounging in her chair. The lazy slouch of his shoulders and the smug glint of his eyes were lessened by the dark circles and pale skin; Dominic had the look of a man that hadn't seen sunlight in months. Appropriately enough considering the Attic was hardly known for its pleasant atmosphere.

"I have a proposition," Adelle began again, after she took indulgence in a liberal sip of her drink. "Help us and you'll get whatever you want."

Dominic smirked, tilting his chair sideways. "See? That's your problem. You promise that reward to everyone that walks through those doors. It's nice to know even the apocalypse doesn't change the house motto."

The reprimand stung far more than she expected, probably because it held a certain amount of truth. She'd deal with such recriminations later, though, after they redeemed civilization.

"We need Caroline - _Echo_ ," she corrected pointedly to his look. "I need you to find her and bring her back to the fold."

"Why her?"

"During your… _sabbatical,_ " Adelle said artfully, to which Dominic snorted his disdain, "there were a great many developments, most notably in the technology of imprinting. The most advanced technique was actually developed by Alpha."

"Alpha?" Dominic repeated in surprise.

"Long story," Adelle dismissed. "Suffice it to say, this technology presently rests in Echo's hands. We need it now to restore order."

"There's no putting the evils back in Pandora's Box. The technology is loose."

"There's always better technology to be had," Adelle replied. "We can still restore some semblance of order."

Dominic considered her for a lengthy beat, and a long moment passed in silence as he stared her down. His pale eyes were still a little dull, that smart intellect now seeming tired and worn thin like an old soul. The attic hadn't done him any favors, but Adelle wondered if he'd managed to fare his ride better than she'd fared her journey. It had been two years since she'd locked him inside his own mind, a cage far more impervious than any steel could create. In those two years, everything - and Adelle truly meant _everything_ \- she believed in had been turned sideways and upended.

Finally, Dominic spoke, "You've got a house full of operatives, waiting at your beck and call. Why dredge me up from the bowels of the Attic?"

It was an expected question; Adelle gave the expected response. "I need someone capable, and you've proved yourself reliable when given a task. I'm sure that's why the NSA picked you in the first place. Finding Echo is of the utmost importance, and I fear with the way the world is tilting on its axis, it'll be challenging. I need this job done, and done well."

"Flattery doesn't become you, Ms. DeWitt," Dominic responded, snidely. "You can save it for someone else. Just tell me what the hell is going on."

Adelle paused, weighing her options. After a moment, she simply said, "Come with me. This is better left seen rather than heard."

* * *

The sleeping chambers had been converted into living-quarters, and where once only dolls dwelled, now everyone gathered: actives, handlers, caretakers, technicians – any and all Dollhouse employees that managed to survive the initial cerebral attack. There were perhaps three dozen total, not including those that had gone blank and resting in the back. Adelle had yet to make a headcount, but it was enough for her to manage temporarily.

"What happened?"

"The Chinese, apparently. They launched the first attach yesterday morning on the east coast through a satellite feed. Millions of personalities wiped clean, as far as the signal could reach. We received word from the New York Dollhouse yesterday at 6:17 pm. Their facilities were sufficiently beneath the ground, so the attack didn't breach their firewall. We haven't heard word from them since, though."

"How many states?"

"All of them, I suspect. The mid-west fell this morning, and well, you've wandered the streets already. I needn't tell you how the west coast faired."

"How did the Chinese get this signal?"

"Does it matter? It happened, and now it's time to regroup."

"The signal wipes people clean?"

"At first," Adelle explained. "There's been more waves of secondary signals. Topher says they're different in nature, designed so that personalities jump bodies instead of being wiped clean."

Dominic paused, no doubt thinking back to the man he had seen out in the park, the one with the mind of a little girl. The world was an interesting place, but Adelle had thought she had seen it all. Clearly, before today, she hadn't seen anything and her imagination – oh, her imagination had been far too constricted. Never in a million years had she thought things would be reduced to this. There were safeguards in place, precious controls – this was never supposed to happen. The system was supposed to keep them safe, but the system had failed.

Adelle had her hand in that as much as anybody else.

They descended the stairs to the first floor, where a group of Actives walked passed. Dominic pulled his feet to a halt, staring at the Dollhouse's exquisite expanse. Victor and Sierra were among the number walking passed, and they smiled with childlike enthusiasm on their faces. Such innocence. Such carefree existences. Adelle envied that.

"I see all the dolls are still blank," Dominic muttered, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

"For now," Adelle said. "We're keeping them easy to manage until we have need for them. Our mainframe still remains intact, so all personalities can be easily uploaded. Bravo and Tango have been reprogrammed as CDC agents to help us with the transition, but all others remain inactive."

"And Echo?" Dominic pressed. "Why isn't she rooming the halls like all the other good little barbies?"

Adelle sighed. "That's a very complicated question. The answer, put plainly, is that she escaped several weeks back. Her neural reconfiguration had apparently been failing for several months, and she was compositing." Dominic halted, staring at her until Adelle was forced to turn back and met his gaze. "Yes, Mr. Dominic, you were right. She proved to be a problem."

"A little late for "I told you so," but I do like the way it tastes."

"Even at this price? The end of the world?"

"Not to sound redundant, but I told you this technology was dangerous and needed to be properly contained. You should have listened to me."

"I should have done a lot of things differently, but if we start down that path, this tour might never end. Point being, Echo's compositing might in the end be to our benefit. She holds Alpha's technology, along with Ballard."

"The FBI agent? He break her out?"

Adelle quietly tucked a hair behind her ear, unwilling to inform Dominic of another one of her faulty judgment calls. Hiring Ballard as a Dollhouse consultant had been a foolish move, and one she didn't want Dominic to throw back in her face.

"Shall we?" Adelle pressed. "There are a few things I want to show you."

She turned the corner, and pulled open a pair of double doors. Dominic came after, a little to the left and a step behind her. It was shocking how, after all this time, they were able to move with the same familiarity and ease. Dominic had always been able to match her pace and stride, when others had feared to come even close. It was a thing she had nearly forgotten – or suppressed – until this moment.

His shoulder brushed hers lightly as they stopped at the edge of the holding facility, looking in. Though the cells were hardly necessary, Adelle comforted herself with a few precautionary measures. She knew Dominic would approve. The people behind the bars were blank individuals, though, as harmless as flies and far more empty than the dolls themselves. Every shred of humanity, every bit of intellect, had been stripped from them because of the signal. There were six in total, and they clustered around each other as if seeking warmth.

"They demonstrate even less cognition than our dolls," Adelle informed. "No speech, no fear, and no signs of thought process beyond doing what we tell them to. They are truly and utterly devoid of human emotion."

"Some would say the same about you," Dominic tossed back, and Adelle flinched against the unexpected insult before she could cover herself. He walked toward the bars. "Why are you keeping them? As pets?"

Adelle raised an eyebrow. "Topher wanted to examine them."

Dominic snorted. "Topher. Right."

She glanced away, for his righteous indignation was wearing thin – even if it was well-deserved. What they had done to Dominic was nothing short of inhuman, but he knew what he had signed up for when he decided to engage the Dollhouse. He knew the risks. She refused to wallow in guilt and recrimination when it came to him.

Or so she told herself.

"We haven't had much success in figuring out how the Chinese managed to send out such a wide-spread signal. As far as we knew, _we_ were the most progressive Dollhouse with the latest advances. Topher is dumbstruck over the signal."

"Jealous he didn't figure it out himself?" Dominic remarked, snidely.

She thought back to Topher's face, earlier today. There had been fear in his eyes, so stark and transparent that Adelle had moved forward to comfort him. Adelle had her hands full suffering from her own guilt, but she suspected Topher would have to move through his own issues.

To Dominic, she simply said, "You'll find a lot of people have changed since you last saw. This house isn't what it once was."

He turned toward her. "Give me a reason to help any of you."

"Saving the world isn't enough?"

"What you claim and what happens hasn't exactly gone according to plan thus far. What would make me think it would work now?"

"Faith, Mr. Dominic," Adelle answered. "When there's nothing left, it is time for us to turn to faith."

* * *

Adelle showed Dominic a few of the other upgrades and changes to the layout of the Dollhouse, before his company became too much. Either she left him, or he left her – she couldn't really tell. It obviously stung both of them to be in the same room together; the betrayal and years of ugly history lying between them. It was almost impossible to think that for three years, he had been her most trusted employee and confidant.

Perhaps, even, a trusted friend.

Those days were clearly in the past.

They separated; Dominic left, his hand coiled tightly around his sidearm as if he had anything to fear inside these walls. No. The true threat lay outside. Adelle knew it would take him some time to adjust to the idea of working alongside the same organization that had abused his mind and body for the past two years; working alongside _her_. But in times of desperation, people adapted quickly. Or so Adelle hoped.

The fate of an entire world rested on their ability to regroup and re-strategize, and Adelle had to keep focus. Wait. That wasn't entirely true. Caroline. Everything rested with _Caroline_. Without her, there was no hope.

"You look sad."

Adelle turned to find Victor approaching her, a small frown on his face. His observation notwithstanding, Adelle wasn't sure she had the patience for his company right now. Yes, she was sad. Adelle had a predilection to being alone when she was sad. Oblivious to her preferences, Victor walked up and stood beside her. Adelle had always stood head-to-head with most men; she was even taller than some. It had offered her a small amount of pride, playing on a level field with men that usually esteemed themselves her better. But Victor was taller than her, but only just. Roger had always been able to loom over her in a way that had seemed non-threatening.

Victor's presence had a different flavor – softer and far gentler.

"Everybody looks sad now," Victor continued. "Is something wrong?"

She paused. How did you explain the apocalypse to a child?

The answer: you didn't.

"Everything's fine," Adelle replied, mustering a smile. "Everybody's fine."

And they still looked to her. Even as the walls came crumbling down, the people within this house still looked to Adelle as if she had the answers. They just kept following orders, and she envied them that task. She wished she had someone telling her what to do, just this once. Somebody had to have the answers, and clearly, Adelle wasn't the one. She just hoped the others wouldn't notice the farce she had been putting on thus far.

"Would you like to sit with us? We're having toast. I like toast."

Adelle sighed. "I like toast too, but I'm tired now, Victor. I'd prefer to sit quietly instead of eat."

"Sierra likes to sit quietly by herself sometimes," Victor informed her, getting that same besotted look on his face he did every time Sierra's name was brought up. "She sits quietly, but sometimes she lets me sit with her."

An unwelcomed surge of jealousy overtook Adelle, but only just for a moment. Roger was a thing of the past, so many years ago that she had long forgotten the comforts of his embrace. But right now, right here, Adelle was suddenly reminded of how soothing that presence had been. How she longed to feel something like that now. Especially now.

"Can I sit with you?" Victor asked.

She couldn't find it in her to decline. "Yes, Victor. You may."

* * *

It was ten minutes past four in the morning, when Adelle heard a knock at her office door. She ignored it at first. Though she had retired to her office – now her makeshift apartment – there was little rest to be had. She tossed and turned for two hours before she had given up on the ruse of sleep. She had settled, quietly, with a laptop in hand, searching the last logs of communication with various Dollhouses across America. All had gone silent for several hours now. She could only conclude they had gone dark for security reasons, much like themselves, or that something far more nefarious had occurred.

Somewhere, she suspected, Alpha was laughing his ass off.

Another knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Adelle sighed. Tiredly, she rose from her chair and ran a smooth hand over her skirt. Straightening, she crossed the room until she reached the doors. When she opened them, Dominic was waiting outside.

"I've made a decision," he said.

She already knew what his answer would be.

* * *

 

If there was one thing Adelle was not, it was a morning person.

She needed a proper cup of tea – _not_ coffee – early in the morning to get the right start. Without that, it was only a brave and foolish man that crossed her path. In their earlier days, Dominic had always been waiting with a cup in his hand if he arrived at the House earlier than her. It became a routine. But after Dominic had been placed in the attic and Boyd had moved up in position, the routine had obviously ended.

Which was why, today, when Boyd showed up with a cup of coffee – not tea – in his hands, she was slightly taken aback. She took the offering for what it was meant to be, and even though it wasn't her preferred tea, the coffee was at least made according to her specifications. Cream and two sugars. She took a sip as Boyd waited quietly.

"Yes, Mr. Langton?" she prompted.

He cleared her throat once before continuing. "I see Dominic is still around. Are you still planning on sending him after Echo?"

"That is the plan, yes. He leaves in a few hours."

It was obvious why Boyd was here. If there was anyone he wanted sent after Echo, it was _himself._ Adelle could respect that. Unfortunately, she needed Boyd here, running things as he had for the last two years. It would be too much to try to replace him, even with a man like Dominic handy. No, she had made her decision carefully. It was best she sent Dominic off, and kept Boyd close by.

"Dominic has barely been awake for a day, and he's still more than a little volatile."

"In what way?" Adelle asked, sardonically. "He is as capable as he was on the day we put him in the Attic."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Boyd replied. "He doesn't have a good history with Echo. I'm concerned he'll let past—"

"Of all the people in this house, he has more reason to be angry at me than anybody else, including Echo. If he's following my orders, then I don't think an old grudge with an active will hold much in comparison."

"Is he? Following your orders?" Boyd asked pointedly. "This is a man that managed to infiltrate and betray us at our deepest levels. You can't trust him blindly."

"I don't trust anyone blindly," Adelle answered sharply, "much less a man that has already proven his loyalties lie elsewhere."

"With all due respect, you said the same thing about Ballard. Look how that turned out."

Adelle kept quiet for a moment, regrouping. All her mistakes were catching up with her at the same time, and it was hard for her to save face when confronted with them. Maybe that was why she was so eager to get rid of Dominic; he wouldn't let her off easy. He would force her to look in the mirror, and that was a reflection Adelle couldn't face right now.

Though, it seemed, maybe Boyd wouldn't be any gentler.

"I know Dominic had his issues with Echo—"

Boyd stepped forward, frustrated. "Then why are you sending him after her?"

"Because," Adelle answered, her voice sharpening, "whatever issues he had with Echo pale in comparison to what is occurring now. We must adapt, Mr. Langton. We must forge new alliances because the old ones will get us all killed. And in case it's escaped your notice, our choices in allies grow thin with each day that passes."

Boyd paused, a tendon in his neck pulsing with tension.

"Besides," she added. "I think you underestimate Dominic. He isn't a pit-bull that attacks blindly. He thinks in larger terms. We need Echo. He knows that."

"You claim otherwise, but you sound like you already trust him again."

"I know his capabilities," she insisted.

"So do I," Boyd emphasized. "He tried to kill Echo twice. I won't give him a third chance."

She looked up, a quiet chill working up her spine. "Is that so?"

Boyd straightened, and a beat of silence lapsed before he finally spoke. "Look outside. There's anarchy. Whatever position you held before, it's meaningless now. You're not my boss anymore, and I'm not your employee. I'm only informing this to you as a courtesy, because despite certain differences, I've come to respect you. I'm going after Echo, and you can't stop me."

Adelle paused, considering. The respect was mutual, she conceded, even as she reviewed her options. She _could_ stop him, but that would require force and resources she wasn't quite sure she was willing to use. Boyd had always been a good company man, despite a few healthy reservations that made themselves known on certain occasions. She had secretly shared in a few of them.

When it came to Echo, especially, he was a man that led with his heart more than his brain. Even after he had left the position of being her handler, that bond had remained. Adelle would have been blind not to notice that.

He would go after Echo, with or without her permission.

Very well, then.

"Leave before sunset," Adelle said, "And I won't send Dominic instead."

Boyd nodded. "I'll leave immediately."

* * *

Boyd did in fact leave immediately, and Adelle watched from her perch on the upper floor as he left Claire behind in tears during his rush. Their relationship was a little known secret, but Adelle had suspected for a long time. The strangest romances could bloom in these environments. In that regard, Adelle knew the vagaries of the heart better than anyone.

Dominic approached her from behind. "Are you sure about this?"

"I've made my decision," Adelle said. "Boyd will go, which means the security of this facility is left with a hole." She turned toward him, and apparently he had raided one of the active's wardrobe, because he had on a new suit – dark, almost black, with a blue shirt underneath that brought out the color of his eyes. "It seems your old position is now open."

He smirked, but there was very little humor to it. "If you think you can make me your lapdog, guess again. I'll do what I have to in order to secure this facility, but I don't answer to your orders. Understood?"

She paused; everything was slipping through her fingers. Her command, her people… she wondered if her hold on her sanity would soon follow after.

"Understood," she replied smoothly.

* * *

As it turned out, it wasn't _her_ sanity she should have been concerned with.

"Topher, what have you done?" she exclaimed in shock.

His laboratory was a disaster. Overnight, he had turned his sanctuary into something that looked like a natural disaster had hit. Books strewn about, equipment dismantled, loose leafs of papers everywhere. Ivy stood to the side, looking as helpless and confused as Adelle felt. There was writing on every surface of the wall, equations and numbers and random ramblings. Topher had apparently sprawled his handwriting on any hard surface he could find, and though she knew his eccentricities well, this was one she had yet to encounter before.

Topher was usually a well-organized man; it was something he prided himself on, alongside all the other attributes he boasted about.

"I've been thinking," Topher began.

"I can see that," Adelle replied, carefully.

Ivy stepped forward. "He's been going nonstop all night long. I tried to get him to rest, or eat, or something. But he just won't stop."

"What is he doing?" Adelle asked.

"I'm trying to fix this," Topher shouted, jumping up to come over to Adelle. "I can fix this. This is a problem just like everything else, and if Alpha could figure out the proper series of equations that could block the signal, I just need to focus. I can do it, too."

Adelle could already tell he'd worked himself up into a frenzy. She'd seen him like this before more than a few times; thus were the perils of dealing with a genius. This time, though, there was a sickening desperation to it, a lack of the normal Topher-charm.

"Besides," Topher continued, "I created Alpha – or at least those personalities that weren't crazy knife-wielding sociopaths. 'Cause, hello! Why would I want to create that? I did what I was told to create, and I gave a few genius personalities to him. But none of them had my IQ!"

"Topher—"

He rode over her. "And what the student can do, the teacher can do. The teacher being me. I just need time! I'm gonna need lots of overtime pay, I suspect, but hey, I signed up for that, didn't I? Good ol' Topher Brink, worker-bee. He can solve any technical problem you have, including the apocalypse! I just need time—"

"Topher, calm down. You need to slow—"

"No!" Topher shouted, and then went back to writing on the wall. "You're distracting me. Go away! I need to work now. I need time. I can fix this."

Adelle stared in stunned silence, watching him scribble on the walls like some mad man. It was then that she realized that Topher was taking these developments far harder than she had previously expected. In her many years as the head of this house, she had seen numerous employees come and go, but there had always been something unique about Topher that made him endearing almost despite himself. But she wondered now if that same quality might be his undoing.

She paused, then quietly left with Ivy, leaving Topher to his devices. She could only hope that with time, he'd calm down. He'd come to understand this wasn't his fault. Oh, no. The blame for his actions could ultimately lie at one person's feet. Topher was just following orders.

Adelle's orders.

* * *

Her encounter with Topher left Adelle slightly shaken, but she didn't have a moment to rest. The next thing that pulled her attention was the first bit of good news she'd heard all day.

"We've got a call from the outside," Ivy informed her. "Secure line."

"Thank god," Adelle muttered, relief tingeing her voice. She was beginning to fear the worst. "Patch it through."

It was only a second or two later that she heard a garbled voice on the other end, and any relief she might have felt quickly fled as the voice identified itself. "Hello, Adelle. It's Clive Ambrose. I'm thrilled to hear you're still alive and kicking."

Though she knew he couldn't see her, Adelle stood straighter, instantly on guard. "Clive," she greeted back coldly. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you managed to survive the end of the world intact. The only price being a deal with the devil for your soul?"

"Oh, hush, Adelle. You shouldn't be so rude to your saviors."

"Saviors?" Adelle repeated.

There were only eleven cities in the U.S. that could boost the claim of their own Dollhouse. Of the eleven, when the decision came to let special cliental permanently upgrade their bodies in an active's body, only one house went against the fold. Only one house denied Clive Ambrose a body and took back the doll that he had laid claim to – Victor. Adelle had suffered severe repercussions because of that, and she feared the hits had yet to end.

"We want to help," Clive said. "More importantly, we're in a position where we _can_ help, and you need it. Supplies, treatment, and most important of all, sanctuary."

Adelle asked, "And where is this generosity coming from?"

"We want to protect our assets," Clive said. "Make no mistake, this isn't charity. We're businessman, and whether you like it or not, you're part of our business."

Adelle paused. Rossum had been trying to get Adelle and the L.A. branch back under its thumb for months now. When their initial coercions failed, they resorted to more underhanded methods. She'd survived two assassination attempts already, and one of those had left her hospitalized for nearly a week. If it hadn't been for Dr. Saunders' expertise, she would be dead right now.

"How can I trust you?"

She could hear the smug smile in Ambrose's voice. "Do your really have many other options left?"

* * *

"What do they want?" Dominic asked.

"A meeting," Adelle answered as she closed her laptop. "With me."

Adelle toed off her sandals and went to the corner cabinet where she had placed her favorite pair of Neiman Marcus. The bloody things made her heels bleed, but it had been made for days like today, when Adelle needed to look and feel her best.

"Clive Ambrose is a hack that couldn't tie his shoes without fucking it up. He's not in it to help you."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Adelle remarked wryly, glancing up at him. "The man has only wanted me dead for months now; years if we're being generous."

"Then why does it look like you're still preparing to go?" Dominic asked.

"Because I am going," Adelle told him with a sigh. "We are literally at our wit's end out here. Isolated and in trouble. We need help. We need resources. If there is even a remote chance that Rossum can help us, we must jump at it. Our survival may depend on it."

"What about your survival?" Dominic asked dryly.

She looked up, studying him for a beat. "Why, Mr. Dominic, is that concern I'm detecting?"

Dominic's eyes narrowed. "No, it's annoyance. Has everybody here gotten dumber since I went away? First, Boyd. Now, you. Why is everyone so goddamn eager to go running off into that black hole? Have you been outside recently?"

"Briefly," Adelle admitted.

It was not a sight she would forget anytime soon.

She shook her head, regrouping. "The truth is, there isn't a choice. I have to do this for the sake of everybody here. They are my responsibility."

Dominic rolled his eyes. "A martyr is only the dumbest person in the room, nothing more."

"Ironic, coming from the man that refused to give away any of the NSA's secrets, even when he had everything to lose."

"That was different."

"No," Adelle denied sharply. "It wasn't. You know exactly why I'm doing this. Don't stand there and pretend to be anything less or more than what you are. That game doesn't work with me."

Dominic barked a brief laugh, but it was utterly devoid of humor and instead laced with a sharp shard of cynicism. There was something twisted about the way he looked at her, and Adelle was suddenly reminded of the moment she had his mind overloaded, brought to the brink of sanity and beyond. He had looked straight at her, eyes-locked, and Adelle watched as someone had flipped a switch and tore his mind to shreds. She never could forget his accusing eyes, as much as she had tried.

"Fine," Dominic said, voice low. "Get yourself killed. It'll save me a bullet in the end."

He left abruptly, and Adelle stood quietly for several moments afterwards, before she could trust her limbs to move.

* * *

The deal was simple: Adelle would walk out by herself, and meet a representative of Ambrose on the corner of Wilshire and South Union Avenue, two blocks from the Dollhouse. Which meant she had to travel through two blocks of that… _black hole_ , as Dominic had put it. She tried to mentally prepare herself for the worst.

She was dressed to the nines, and completed the ensemble with a small .45 caliber that could be tucked seamlessly into her handbag. She ejected the magazine, inspected the clip, then reinserted it with a hard slam.

She took just one brief moment to compose herself before she stepped out into the main lobby of the Dollhouse. It seemed a group had gathered, with growing numbers. Word must have spread of Adelle's departure, but from the crowd, she only made eye-contact briefly with Topher. He stood near the side, and his face was slightly pale and strung out. He looked… haunted.

She glanced away.

Dominic was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't sure to be relieved or annoyed.

She took the elevator, but as the doors closed, a hand shot out and Topher forced the doors back open. "Hey, here's a smart idea. Don't do this. You said so yourself, Ambrose is a dick. Don't follow the dick's orders."

Adelle almost smiled. "I don't believe those were my precise words."

He waved a hand. "I extracted from what was implied. You shouldn't go. I don't want you to go, and I think I can speak for everyone else here when I say that."

"Topher," she said calmly. "I'll be back."

He stared at her, then reluctantly, nodded once and freed the door. The elevator closed, and then Adelle ascended up to the garage floor where civilization – or lack thereof – would greet her.

A distant memory floated to the surface of her mind. When Adelle was eight years old, she fell through a thin sheet of ice into a frozen lake. The water had been like swords jabbing into her skin, an excruciating pain that she could never quite describe in words. She couldn't have spent more than twenty, maybe thirty seconds in the water – but to her recollection, it had lasted far longer. The unendurable pain was something that had seared into her mind, and Adelle still remembered that first blinding second of panic as the ice started to crack under her feet.

It was the same feeling she felt now.

* * *

Three days of this, and the city had turned to anarchy. She knew, in the abstract, what she had to expect. Seeing it was another thing entirely. The two-block walk to her destination was hardly long, but Adelle found herself overly cautious and, perhaps, a bit paranoid. She tried her best to stay away from anybody else; only once did she bump into another person – a woman in her late fifties, who was throwing a garbage can through a sheet of glass of the local gas station.

Adelle hurried along, without making it seem like she was in a rush. Everything was about perception, and she knew Ambrose would have her watched from the moment she stepped foot out of the Dollhouse.

There was smoke billowing from various fires, and she wasn't sure, but she thought she saw two dead bodies littered in the middle of the street. She kept walking, and finally reached her destination with two minutes left to spare.

Her contact was something she did not expect – a thirteen year old boy, and inside was Clive Ambrose.

"This is just obscene," she informed him.

The boy smiled. "Resources being what they are, we didn't want to risk an active for this meet. The boy was already blank when we found him. He'll be wiped clean again within a matter of hours."

It seemed no mind to Ambrose that the true owner of this little boy's body was lost, perhaps forever. A tight, sickening coil worked inside Adelle's stomach. This was the world she helped create. God help her.

"What do you want?" Adelle asked, trying to focus.

"What we've always wanted. Your cooperation."

Adelle's eyes narrowed. "You mean my servitude, unerring and unquestioning."

The boy shrugged. "If you want to put it that way."

"I have a conscience, Mr. Ambrose. Don't ask me to betray that."

Ambrose laughed, a hearty chuckle that seemed so out of place on such a young face. Boys were meant to have carefree laughs; this one was disturbing and dark, and Adelle could only stare. "Y'know," Ambrose began, "I don't know where you get off, claiming the moral high ground. You were a glorified pimp, selling whores out the door every day. Don't claim innocence. Hypocrisy is one of the greatest sins anyone can—"

"You crossed a line," Adelle insisted harshly. "There were dirty deeds that I did, but I did them with the understanding that there was a greater purpose to this all. I thought the research was going to save lives, revolutionize medicine and technology. Now look at this place! We've reduced the world to ashes. That was never my intention!"

"The road to hell, Adelle, is paved with yadda, yadda, _yawn_. I don't care about your intentions, and here's a newsflash for you. There's probably no one else left on Earth that cares, either. You're alone, scared, and vulnerable. So let's cut the philosophical bullshit and get on with this. I want half your actives, the chair, and duplicates of all your electronic wedges. We could always use spare parts. In return, we'll give you supplies and sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?" Adelle repeated, dubiously.

"You can't expect to stay down there forever. You need to move. We can help with that."

"What place can be safe from a signal?"

"We've got the best and brightest people working on it. You think we didn't prepare for this? Hell, we _thought_ of this. The Chinese just beat us to it."

"Only you could be proud of that statement," Adelle spat.

The boy rolled his eyes. "The world has evolved, Adelle. Adapt or die. Either way, I could honestly care less. Just decide."

Adelle paused, considering once more her options. It was a deal with the devil, far worse than any previous ones that she'd made. Could she do this? Half her actives, the chair, and all of Topher's created personalities. What could Ambrose do with that? Surely, nothing worse than what he had already done?

But Adelle thought of her actives – _half_ her actives. Those poor souls would never know freedom. They'd be reduced to the likes of this little boy in front of her; servitude and captivity. She had done her fair shares of evil in this world, but now, those evils had caught up with her and Adelle didn't know if she could add any more weight to them.

But did she have a choice? Her people were relying on her.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"It's a deal," Adelle said, in a tight voice. "As long as I have assurances that my people will be taken care of."

"Of course," the boy said, as if she'd just take him at his word.

"I want proof that you have the means to protect us, first. I want to see how your scientists are blocking the signal."

"In time," Ambrose said. "First, gather your actives and upload a copy of your mainframe and deliver it to—"

"No," Adelle cut in, incredulous. "What did you expect? That I'd just blindly hand over everything and then pray you'd hold up your end of the bargain? The defense technology first, then you can get your thirty pieces of silver."

"The more we stand here arguing, the more risk you expose yourself to. How long before another signal passes? You could go blank, or hell, end up in another body. Maybe this little boy's body? Wouldn't that be amusing?"

Her blood boiled, but he was right. They were exposed outside. Well, she was anyway. Ambrose probably had a collection of bodies waiting for his abuse of power. But then… Adelle studied him. A trickle of sweat worked down his forehead, and Adelle realized that Ambrose was nervous. For a man in such a powerful position, it suddenly occurred to her that he was helpless out here in a certain way. Where was his security? The city was in anarchy, and people everywhere had gone insane. The deal had been that Adelle came alone; Ambrose should have been six feet deep in guards.

In fact, it was a curious thing that he had attended this meet himself.

"What resources are you working with?" Adelle asked.

Ambrose began losing patience. "I don't have time for this! Bring the actives and technology to—"

Adelle laughed, because – oh, it suddenly clicked. The horrid irony of it was nearly perverse in its humor. "You're trapped in that body, aren't you? You need _my_ actives and _my_ chair to upload yourself to a new body."

The boy bristled, face flustered, and Adelle knew at once that she had guessed right.

"Oh, god," she breathed in horror. "This is both cruel and fitting."

"Don't be foolish, Adelle. I have contacts and means. I am not a man you want to make an enemy of!"

"You're hardly a man," Adelle spat back. "And, no, for your information, that wasn't a remark upon that poor boy's body you're in. Your shortcomings are all innate. I can't believe I came here and—"

She glanced up, quickly realizing that her exposure outside had been for nothing. Bloody hell. She looked briefly towards the sky, praying she had time to make it back to the Dollhouse before the next signal hit.

Ambrose pulled out a gun. "You're not going anywhere, not without me. I want a new body."

"Once upon a time, you had ten extras."

"Eleven," Ambrose corrected. "You took back Victor's body—"

There was a burst of heat from nearby, and then a scream. Adelle and Ambrose both looked up, and the next thing she knew, a horde of people were rushing towards them. Adelle had no idea what they were after, or if they were after anything at all, but the mob looked deranged. Adelle wasn't going to stick around to find out their agenda.

"Care to meet your creations?" Adelle remarked, idly.

Another explosion sounded in the distance.

Before Clive could recover from the shock, Adelle reached for the gun. He was just a child, with a small boy's strength. The gun gave way, and Ambrose was easily disarmed. She aimed the weapon toward him, and the boy raised his arms weakly in the air.

"Please," he begged. "You can't leave me out here. I'll die."

Adelle wasn't a cruel person by nature, but neither was she sentimental. "A fitting end," she said, and turned and left.

She tried to slip by the mob, running passed. Someone threw a Molotov cocktail at the ground, and the street erupted into flames. Adelle ducked low and tried to avoid the fire, but the sound of more bottles hitting the floor alarmed her. Fire spread. She stood immobilized, with a sea of red quickly surrounding her. Adelle aimed her sidearm and pulled the trigger. A glass window shattered nearby, providing an escape. She climbed quickly, clambering up rubble and passed broken shards.

So much for sanctuary, Adelle thought ruefully.

She moved swiftly back towards her House.

* * *

She arrived back in time to witness a fight.

Two of the House's caretakers were feuding – over what, Adelle had little patience to find out. Thankfully, Dominic was already headed towards the middle of it, and within seconds, he had them pulled apart. One was left bleeding on the floor, but Dominic didn't suffer any sympathy. He pulled the caretaker up by his lapels and shoved him towards Saunders' door.

"Get cleaned up and get back to work!" he barked.

Adelle stared, caught in a sudden wave of déjà-vu. There was Laurence Dominic, demonstrating the same fierceness and reliability; the old ruthlessness that made him such a perfect Head of Security. She caught his eye briefly as he moved towards the steps, but she couldn't bear to make any conversation right now. Her face must have given away her mood, because Dominic halted before reaching her.

She climbed the stairs quietly to her office, and shut the door.

People knew better than to disturb her.

* * *

She had a dream that night.

 _Smoke, fire and ash. The world reduced to a pile of rubble, and as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but burning buildings and crumbling walls. This was the world Adelle had created. This was the world she had left behind. She saw the faces of all her loved ones, few though they were. She saw her actives, she saw her employees – Topher, Boyd, Claire. She saw Echo. She saw them all dead or dying._

 _How could she ever undo this?_

When she awoke, it was to the sound of someone knocking on the door. She had no idea what time it was, but it must have been late because Adelle felt as if she'd barely slept. Day four of this little nightmare, and Adelle could count on one hand the number of hours she'd managed sleep. Her body was beginning to rebel.

She answered the door in a pair of pale blue pajamas taken from Echo's wardrobe, and Dominic stood at the threshold. He strode in without waiting for her permission. Adelle sighed wearily, and ran a hand through her tangled hair. God knew what she looked like, but she highly doubted it was anything presentable.

"What is it, Mr. Dominic?"

"You should have killed him," Dominic began, as if such a greeting were ordinary.

"Who?"

"Ambrose," Dominic said. "I don't care if he was in that boy's body. You should have pulled the trigger."

Adelle stood straighter, more alert. She had never mentioned anything about Ambrose's body, nor of the opportunity she'd had to kill him with his own gun. It took her a second to realize it, and Adelle blamed such a slow response on the lack of sleep.

"You were following me."

Dominic said, "He's still a danger, and you keep making the same mistake over and over again. You let those dangers live. You don't learn, do you?"

An aggravated sigh escaped her lips. "If this is going to be another speech where you lecture me on all my sins and mistakes, can it please wait until the morning? I'm hardly in the mood right now." She paused, briefly. "Why _were_ you following me, anyway?"

"Why do you think?"

It wasn't an answer in the slightest, because she honestly didn't know what she thought – or what _he_ thought. Her emotions regarding Dominic had always swung widely from one pendulum point to another. She either trusted him or hated him, and now she wasn't sure of where she stood. And Dominic – the man was just as likely to put a bullet in her as hold the door open for her. She couldn't imagine a more complicated relationship, especially during a more complicated time in her life.

She didn't have the strength for this right now. Nor the brainpower.

"Please shut the door on your way out, Mr. Dominic. I'll see you in the morning."

His voice twisted wryly, "I'm not going to be dismissed, _Ma'am_."

She flinched. The way he said that to her now, with such disdain and scorn, irritated her. Adelle never stood for such mockery before, and it was wearing thin very quickly. She turned to him and realized this wasn't going to go away. In fact, she was surprised it had kept on the backburner for as long as it had. Dominic deserved retribution for what had been done to him, as did all the other souls she had helped destroy.

It suddenly occurred to her that if he pointed a gun at her and demanded even just _one_ reason to let her live, she wouldn't have been able to come up with a single answer.

"All right," she said, feeling old and worn thin. "Let's have it out, then. What ugly thing do you want to say to me—"

His lips latched onto hers before another word fell. Hot, wet, shockingly erotic, his lips and tongue moved aggressively, tugging her under before she had a chance to resist. In an instant, she was breathless and struggling for control, battling not to fist her hand around his tie to drag him closer. Her grogginess was gone, eclipsed by the warmth rushing through her veins. No hesitancy, no faltering – he kissed and, yes, she was kissing back.

She finally pulled free, attempting to regain control. "No," she said, almost desperately. "Wait, wait. Slow down."

She stepped back, but Dominic followed, and then she shivered as his tongue darted out, tasting the column of her long neck, sucking on the exposed skin. A faint moan escaped her lips, and the next thing Adelle knew, she was pressed up against her desk.

There was only so much chaos she could take in one day. But Christ, how her body burned. It was almost embarrassing but she was fully aroused in seconds. There was a wanton and reckless part of her that wanted desperately to escape in Dominic's embrace. He was strong, broad shoulders and solid muscles, clothes bunching at the seams as he pushed up against her. It was all dark want and open longing, and the intensity of it stole her breath away. God, she felt dizzy.

But… but a memory resurfaced. Of a little boy, and dead bodies, and a deranged mob.

It took a herculean amount of strength to pull free the second time, but this time when she did, Dominic didn't follow after. She turned away; her fingers curled tightly into fists and she ignored the tension thrumming in her body, considering it a betrayal. This wasn't surprising in the least, not to her. There had always been an attraction between them and the tension had never abated, not even after their betrayals. In fact, it may have even increased and she didn't even want to analyze what that meant. She couldn't do this, not now. Not here.

"Get out," she ordered, breathlessly. "Now."

He stared at her, almost in confusion. "You want this," he said, and there was a dark gruffness in his voice that sent a shiver up her spine. "Adelle, you've _always_ wanted this."

She couldn't deny that.

His clothes were rumpled, hair in disarray, and it seemed she had rung her hand around his necktie after all because it looked sorely abused. Her attraction to him had never been more potent, but it was overrun by something even more powerful.

"Get out," she said, and this time her voice was softer, almost pleading. "Just… I can't. Not… I can't."

Slowly, he stood straighter. He held her gaze for just another moment, before he turned and left the room. The door clanged shut after him with a loud noise that almost made Adelle jump. She closed her eyes and felt tears threaten to spill, wondering if she had just made a mistake or managed to avoid one. But in the end she knew she had made the right decision.

Adelle would seek no solace tonight, not for her sins.

She didn't deserve any.

* * *

  
TBC... 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Dominic studiously avoided her the entire next day and into the following evening.

There had been days like this before, though not quite with the same intensity. The events of the previous night had clearly been the farthest Adelle and Dominic had ever taken action, but it certainly wasn't their first acknowledgement of attraction. Over the three years they had worked side-by-side, there had been a handful of events where Adelle knew the boundaries of their professional relationship colored outside the lines. Beyond the subtle looks and words that spoke just a little too much, there had been a few incidents that had blatantly called attention to a sexual vibe.

Those moments were always followed after with repression and a few days of awkward behavior, where they both fumbled around to find solid footing again. It was almost amusing, if not for the overwhelming embarrassment. Adelle knew they both prided themselves on being cool and unflinching, but oh, she nearly laughed when she remembered Dominic fumbling for a greeting hello after once such incident.

She sobered after a moment. There wasn't much amusement in the current situation.

"Ms. DeWitt?" Claire spoke up, interrupting her thoughts. "I think you need to see something."

Before she rose, Adelle smoothed a hand over her skirt, flattening imaginary wrinkles. "What is it, Dr. Saunders?"

"It's about Topher," Claire began, in a tone that didn't bode well. "He's getting worse."

Adelle didn't need any sort of clarification. She'd been following Topher's mental degradation with a close and concerned eye.

"Sedatives might help," Claire suggested, carefully.

Adelle paused. "He wouldn't take that willingly. Topher hates medication."

Claire looked behind her, at the door, then quietly returned Adelle's stare. "It'll be for his own good. I've seen this type of behavior before, and if we don't do something to help him, it'll spiral out of control. The rest will do him good."

Adelle closed her eyes briefly, and they quietly exchanged a few words. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Adelle merely nodded, informed Claire that she'd take care of it, and then walked swiftly out into the hall.

In the corridor, she collided solidly into Dominic.

"Damn it—" "Oh, sorr—"

They stared at each other, both falling silent in the same beat. A second of excruciating awkwardness followed after as they straightened themselves, and Claire caught up to them from behind.

Finally, Adelle found her voice, "I think some assistance may be necessary in regards to Topher."

Dominic merely nodded, but she found that his eyes weren't quite meeting hers. "I saw him this morning. I'd thought it might become an issue."

She suppressed a sigh. If even Dominic was noting Topher's strange behavior, then she needed to nip this in the bud. They exchanged a few more terse words, full of awkward pauses and stifled sentences, and then when everyone was clear on their responsibilities, Adelle turned to take her leave.

When she approached the front door of Topher's lab, she found him at the back wall, movements fidgety, almost erratic. She had no idea what he was doing, but it was obvious he was assembling or disassembling something that had a hundred and one components. All manner of electronic pieces were strewn about, and Adelle nearly had to play hopscotch to reach him at the other end of the room.

"Topher, what are you doing?"

"I'm almost there," he said distractedly. "I just need a little more time. Just a little more."

"For what?" she tried again.

"The signal," he snapped, as if the answer was obvious. He immediately regretted the tone, though, because his tense shoulders slumped and he turned with apologetic eyes. "Sorry. It's just… I need to concentrate now and people keep interrupting me. How am I supposed to get anything done when people keep interrupting me?"

She stared at him, choosing her words very carefully. "Topher, I'm starting to become concerned. When was the last time you slept?"

"Didn't," he answered. "That's what the black tar in the back that we call coffee is for."

She sighed. "You need rest—"

"No, no, I don't rest. I need to focus. I'm close, so close. You don't realize, I'm only a few keystrokes and hardware connections from figuring out how to reverse the signal. I'm sure of it!"

Adelle paused, a flutter of hope rising in her chest. "Really?"

He nodded. "Just – I don't know. I need space and time. Just give me that. _Please_."

He sounded so desperate, almost hysterical, that Adelle's instinctual reaction was to reach out and hold him. It was obvious Topher hadn't slept in days, far worse than even her horrid record. That, combined with the stress and pressure, not to mention the guilt, had clearly taken their toll. Topher looked fatigued and pale like a man twice his age and half his health.

"You should rest," Adelle insisted. "You'll work better when you're—"

"I'll work better when the world isn't imploding!" Topher barked angrily. "Why doesn't anybody get it? I'm _it_. I'm the answer. I just can't get to it if overpaid imbeciles keep getting in my way!"

Adelle flinched against the tone.

But in the next second, she squared her shoulders and recovered. She turned back toward the door, and there was Dominic and Dr. Saunders, awaiting her signal. Adelle nodded once, and then there were two more people in the room. She tried not to flinch openly when Dominic manhandled Topher into the imprint chair, the latter sputtering and protesting the entire way.

Adelle began calmly, "We're going to give you some sedatives—"

"Wait!" Topher shouted frantically. "Adelle, wait, you can't. Not like this. Please! I just nee—"

"Rest," Claire said over him, trying to be gentle. "We're helping you, Topher."

Adelle couldn't quite watch as Saunders pulled out a syringe. Her eyes drifted away, and then focused on Dominic. A brief wave of déjà vu swept over her. _Adelle, please, don't give me the shot! Please! Please!_ She stumbled back with the memory as Topher's shouts echoed in fervor.

"Stop!" she said abruptly, surprised by her own voice. "Stop. Wait!"

Everybody stopped struggling, including Topher. A terse breath escaped her lips. They watched as Adelle approached, then calmly, slowly, she bent down until she was eye-level with Topher, who was seated, almost sprawled across the imprint chair.

"You can't go on like this, Topher." She paused, heavily. "It isn't your fault."

After a beat, he met her gaze with devastated eyes. "Isn't it?" he choked out.

Her throat closed off, and oh, how she wanted to say he had nothing to be sorry for. She reached out to cup his face with her palm, ever so gentle, and then tried for a smile. "It isn't, Topher," she said, and though it was partially a lie, it was one she could easily live with. "Don't punish yourself."

He crumpled a little, and then he collapsed into her arms or she had pulled him there. It didn't matter. A brief nod towards the others, and both Saunders and Dominic left the room to give them some privacy. She stayed with Topher, holding him as she felt his body wrack with sobs.

It wasn't too long – time had very little meaning in those moments – before she gently led him to a hammock in the back, another one of her indulgent gifts given to him over the years. His office was full of video games and large toys, and it occurred to her that she wanted that Topher back, the one that was unusually childish in his ways. She helped him up in the hammock, and then watched over him as he fell asleep almost instantly.

When she emerged back into the hallway, Dominic was waiting for her. "That was… unusually human of you. Growing soft, Ms. DeWitt?"

There was a hint of scorn when he said her name. It was an insult and compliment all rolled up into one, but considering his comments lately, it was progress. Soon enough, given time, they might be able to even hold a conversation without the customary default acerbity. Adelle could only hope, anyway.

"What's next?" she said, and they resumed walking beside each other.

* * *

The days tolled on.

People started fighting – over the pettiest things possible. Adelle wasn't surprised. There was enough tension in the place that they all felt wound tight, ready to snap at any offense. Even the actives were beginning to display concern for how everyone else was acting around them. The other day, Sierra was found comforting a sobbing technician in her arms, her eyes widened with shock.

There were also a lot of… how could Adelle put this? _Hook-ups_ , she believed the appropriate term was. It had been House policy from day one that interoffice fraternization was not allowed in any way, shape or form. Clearly, Adelle could no longer hold to that rule. People needed solace in whatever form they could get.

It was ironic, she thought, that she couldn't deny anyone that comfort – except herself. And by extension, Dominic. Though Dominic was free and clear to pursue any other relationship, should he wish. But that thought brought about a spike of jealousy, and she never let her mind wander further down that path.

Topher was doing better, but only marginally. He managed a few hours of rest, and then nothing short of Adelle's intervention would make him stop working. Hours and hours on end, without break, without sustenance unless someone forced food down his throat. She would have felt compelled to make him rest more, if his success hadn't been so critical. His work was too important.

All in all, though they were merely waiting for word from Boyd and Echo, the days were filled with things that Adelle needed to manage. She almost wished for a break, but truth be told, she was glad to keep busy.

It was then, of course, that things got interesting again.

* * *

"I think I've got it!" Topher announced with undisguised jubilation.

She was seated behind her desk, and Dominic had been standing to one side. The conversations regarding supplies pulled to a halt as Adelle rose, greeting Topher. "What is it?"

Topher started gesturing wildly. "Got to hand it to the Chinese, it's almost beautiful in its simplicity. I was focusing too hard on the details before, but when you step back, it's almost… it's almost _divine_ in its execution. So simple. Two basic components, one wipe. First it breaks through your cerebral defenses, and then it erases everything clean. It's basic micropulse."

Adelle stepped closer. "Tell me more."

"I reversed engineered the signal by deconstructing the two main components and then fiddled with the—"

"Fiddled?" Dominic repeated, incredulous.

"Yes, fiddled," Topher explained in an exasperated voice. "Distorted. Twisted. Altered. _Changed._ "

"And?" Adelle prompted.

"If I do a little more manipulation on the sound-wave frequency and adjust the air pressure level, I might – emphasis on _might_ , with asterisks, underlines and exclamation points – be able to get a working test up and ready. I can use the wiped individuals in the basement to perform a small, wee little-itty bitty experiment."

Adelle exchanged a dark look with Dominic. "How small of an experiment?"

Topher laughed, nervously. "It'll cover all of the Dollhouse."

Adelle and Dominic stared, and then Dominic started, "Your answer is to wipe everybody here clean?"

Topher rolled his eyes. "Once again, the point goes whooshing past your Cro-Magnon head. No, Mr. I Wear a Stiff Suit Even While the World is Ending, I said I fiddled with the signal, didn't I? It doesn't wipe everyone clean. It brings them back to their natural default, basically. I'm hoping it'll restore their identities."

"How can that happen? They've been wiped clean."

"Neurons remember, my friend." Topher shuddered. "Alpha and Echo's compositing proved that."

"You can do that?"

Topher stilled, unusually quiet all of a sudden. He looked crestfallen for a moment, before he admitted, "In theory."

A mere month ago, Topher would never have been so demur. Adelle quietly regarded him for a moment, then looked to Dominic for his input. "I don't like it," Dominic said. "It's too risky. If it doesn't work exactly like Topher wants, we could be wiped clean."

"Indeed," Adelle agreed. "Is there any way to shield the rest of us from the signal?"

"Already tried that, and unfortunately no," Topher said. "Not here, not within this building. If I make the signal any weaker, it'd be ineffective and wouldn't breach passed the cerebral barriers of the subjects. But I am gonna limit the signal so the effects only last one day, two days tops. After that, the subjects return back to their current state. Y'know, all zombie-like and creepy."

Adelle paused, considering. If it somehow managed to influence everyone, the effects would only last a day or two. She… could, possibly, manage that. They could put in safeguards.

Desperate times. Desperate measures.

She nodded quietly. "Make preparations," she said, to both men in the room.

Topher left immediately, but Dominic lingered behind. She could read the displeasure on his face, even though most would call it an impassive mask. She turned away, towards the open blinds of her office that gave view to a fake scenery. Dominic approached in long even strides until he was standing directly behind her. There was a brief whiff of his aftershave, and something that smelled like gunpowder, and then Dominic spoke into her ear.

"You can't save everyone, you know? It's already too late for that."

Adelle nodded. "I can still try."

While Topher worked on the signal, Dominic left to seal the House. It wouldn't be prudent to leave them all exposed, if, in any sort of confusion, people escaped and went wandering up top where the real danger lay. Dominic bricked up exits and passages, and placed extra bio-locks on all the restricted areas.

Adelle took only one extra precaution. Two hours before Topher began his experiment, she sat down with a video camera and made a recording of herself.

When she walked down the steps later, Claire was passing out "Hello, my name is…" sticker labels. "In case Topher's experiment doesn't go exactly as planned," she said dryly, and Adelle would have almost found the measure amusing if not for the seriousness behind it. Claire added stickers to the wiped subjects, labeling the six individuals as "Subject A" through "Subject F."

Adelle glanced down at the label in her hand, and finally wrote her first name in a long cursive stroke. She pressed the sticker to her chest. "Ready?" she asked Topher.

Topher typed away furiously at a station within the programming center. He seemed so singularly focused that Adelle wondered if he even realized she was in the same room.

"He's oblivious, isn't he?" Dominic asked, announcing his presence from behind. He had on one of those stickers that merely said _Dominic_ , and it looked strange on his crisp grey suit. It made it appear like they were attending a business convention of some sort. "Topher isn't at his best right now—"

"But he is our best bet," Adelle quieted, knowing where Dominic was going with this. "Besides, we have little choice. It's either create our own solutions, or wait for someone to rescue us. Fancy playing the damsel in distress, Mr. Dominic?"

Dominic nearly smirked. "Not particularly."

"Done!" Topher announced victoriously, standing up. "I just have to hit execute and it'll send out the signal."

Adelle and Dominic approached Topher from behind. "Are you sure it's ready?"

"I've done everything I can," Topher said. "Now it's time to stop _waxing on, waxing off._ We must fight, Mr. Miyagi."

Adelle lifted an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Topher said. "Pop cultural reference from the eighties. We need to just try this sucker out, already."

Adelle stared at the computer for a moment, which had the signal program streaming across its monitor. She glanced away, to the back window that overlooked the entire Dollhouse. Approaching it, she crossed her arms and felt the weight of the two men's stares behind her.

"Do it," she said with finality. "Run the signal."

She was watching over the Actives when Topher hit the final command stroke.

* * *

She awoke with a dull throb. Groaning, she shifted to discover herself lying prone on the floor, limbs splayed out. She fixed her skirt instinctively, before she discovered a man lying next to her, dressed in a smart grey suit.

"Bloody hell," she muttered.

Confusion overtook her: where was she?

She rubbed her temples in a vain attempt to ward off her headache, when the man next to her stirred. He stifled a curse under his breath and lifted his head. He finally caught sight of her, and they locked gazes, lying on the floor next to each other. She found herself staring into familiar blue eyes, though she couldn't place the name of the owner.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Who're you?" the man replied.

The question struck her in the chest, and she blinked.

Bloody hell, indeed.

* * *

An hour later, the questions kept piling up.

Her name was Adelle, but other than that, she knew very little about who she was or what she was doing here. Adelle – the name _felt_ familiar, but in a distant way like it was merely the name of a long-forgotten friend. Everybody else around her felt the same; the man who awoke next to her, Dominic, expressed similar feelings.

In fact, he felt recognizable as well, but how? She couldn't pinpoint.

"Like rats in a maze," Dominic muttered, annoyed.

"Yep, but a really _nice_ maze, with sweet digs and hot mamas!" That would be Topher, who Adelle had already managed to equate with certain cartoon characters in her head. "What is up with this place?"

That was the question of the hour. The facility they were in – she had no idea what else to call it – gave off a disconcerting vibe. The space was huge. It was gorgeous and had all the amenities they could desire, like a resort, but they were trapped. All doors were barred, either physically or electronically.

Why would anyone want to trap people inside a facility like this?

"It's seven," Sierra pointed out, helpfully, passing by. "We always eat at seven."

And then – well, they were _those_ people. They acted like children, only more mechanical, more oblivious. Adelle wasn't sure how to describe them, but there was something so uniquely innocent about them. They dressed differently from everybody else, in comfortable sportswear, so it was easy to tell them apart.

"We always eat at seven," Sierra repeated.

"Do you expect us to feed you?" Adelle asked, curious.

Sierra blinked. "No, you don't feed us, Ms. DeWitt. The caretakers feed us. You…" she paused, "you tell everybody what to do."

Adelle paused. "I'm the boss?"

Dominic stepped forward. "What do you do around here?"

"What do you mean?" Victor asked, coming up beside Sierra.

Dominic released a frustrated sigh, talking slower as if he were talking to a child. "I mean, on a daily basis, what is it you do around here?"

Victor and Sierra looked at each other. "Exercise," Victor said.

"Swim."

"Draw."

"Gardening," Sierra added. "I like to garden."

"You're very good at it." Victor said. "You're also very good at yoga."

"Thank you, Victor. You're very good at rock climbing—"

"Okay, okay!" Dominic cut in. "I think we get it. You're all very good at having fun."

"We try to be our best," Victor said, and a chill went up Adelle's spine.

Adelle walked away from the gathering since she doubted Victor and Sierra could tell her what was truly happening here. The facility had upper floors, which housed some type of laboratory, and above that floor was an expansive office. It all held that familiar flavor to it, and Adelle felt frustrated because the answer was _there_ , on the tip of her tongue. She just couldn't remember.

"Alien experiment," Topher said. "That has to be it."

Adelle raised an eyebrow.

"Think about it!" Topher insisted. "We're all here. This place, it's a psychological mind game. There are different variables, and we're the subjects. We're categorized by how much we remember. People like me, you, Mr. Grumpy Pants over there," he gestured to Dominic, "all are fully cognizant, but we don't know our identities. And yet, we still have distinct personalities. Dominic's grumpy, as his newly minted nickname denotes. I'm loveable and intelligent, with a hint of debonair charm. And you're… well, um, _British._ "

Adelle repressed the urge to roll her eyes.

"Then you've got those… _those_ people," Topher pointed to Victor and Sierra, "who are more than a few Skittles short of a bag. And then, well," he trailed off, gesturing at the poor souls in the center of the room.

They just milled about, listlessly, aimlessly. There were six of them, and they were labeled as Subjects A through F. They hadn't said a word, and didn't seem to understand much. They were like… mindless, soulless individuals. Adelle felt a sharp sense of remorse when she saw them.

" _Subjects,_ " Topher emphasized their labels. "This is an ongoing alien experimentation, man. I'm telling you."

"Why aliens?" Adelle asked curiously.

"Oh, for god's sakes," Dominic muttered, coming up behind them. "Don't humor him with questions."

"You got any brighter ideas?" Topher snapped, "Cause I'd like to hear 'em. This place is freaky weird on a scale that goes off the charts. We're being watched! I'm telling you!"

"Why don't you go tell other people?" Dominic groused.

Topher huffed a little, but quickly left to follow one of the other beautiful women dressed in scantily clad attire, who was carrying a bowl of fruit. "Do you know where I can find any Jujubees?" he yelled after her. "I've got a craving for sugar here that is only gonna make me cranky if I don't get any sustenance."

Dominic approached her from the side. Actually, he had been at her side since they'd woken. Adelle would have found it annoying or invasive, but there was something oddly comforting about his presence that made her feel reassured. She didn't know if she wanted to examine that feeling any closer, though. Things were just so… confusing and strange, and there was a stark sense of déjà vu to absolutely everything.

"We should split up and further explore," Adelle suggested. "There might be a clue somewhere."

"You mean one that the aliens left behind for us?" Dominic remarked, wryly.

Despite the cynicism, in the next second Dominic was organizing people into teams of two, assigning them places to explore. It didn't escape her notice that he grouped Adelle with himself.

"The office," Adelle said. "That's where we need to start."

* * *

There was a CD resting on top of the oak desk, with a handwritten note upon it that simply said, "Play me." Adelle exchanged a look with Dominic, and he inserted it into the harddrive and then clicked on the appearing desktop icon. It took a few seconds, but then a recording came up.

 _"Hello."_ Adelle found herself staring at… well, herself. The clothes she wore were the same, so it looked like the video had been taped recently. _"My name is Adelle DeWitt, and if you're watching this, then something with Topher's experimentation went wrong."_

Adelle DeWitt. She had a last name.

 _"I don't know how much you remember, so forgive me if I go over anything you already know. We're playing a dangerous game right now, in which lives can be lost. I trust you'll pay special attention to anything I have to say. The building you are in is called the Dollhouse. It is an underground facility, and I cannot press to you the importance that you remain within its walls. As strange as this place may seem to you right now, things outside are even…"_ she paused, paling slightly, _"well, they are far stranger, to say the least."_

Adelle sat down, having the feeling that she might need to.

 _"I… I don't even know where to begin. Truthfully, I think the less you know right now, the better. Rest assured, the effects you're feeling are temporary. In a day or two, you will remember. Far more than you want to, I daresay. We've…_ done things _. Horrible things, and now we're all paying the price for them."_

Dominic leaned against the edge of the desk beside her.

 _"Be thankful for your ignorance for as long as it lasts. You have everything you need to survive the next two days, and many more months after that. Food, water, shelter,"_ she smiled wryly, _"a comprehensive spa facility. This place… well, consider it your Garden of Eden. I lead the people here, and there are a few others I must mention. Topher Brink. He is, as we say, the brains of this operation. Look after him, though. He needs guidance and someone to rein him in, should he get too exuberant."_

Beside her, Dominic snorted and muttered under his breath, "He needs a babysitter and a nuzzle, is what he needs."

 _"Another,"_ said the Adelle on the computer screen, _"is Claire Saunders. She is the medical doctor of the facility, and in her hands, you'll be well tended to."_

Dominic raised an eyebrow. "You remember a Claire Saunders from the group?"

Adelle shook her head, confused. "None that I can remember. No one I saw was labeled by that name."

 _"And, last but not least, there is my Head of Security, Laurence Dominic."_

"Security, huh?" Dominic repeated.

It fit, Adelle thought with a glance aside.

 _"Mr. Dominic is…"_ the other Adelle paused, choosing her words carefully after some deliberation. _"I trust his judgment. Take his words of caution with the weight it deserves. I imagine if I had done that more often in the past, you might not have landed in the position you currently find yourself in._

There was such grief in her words, her tone, her body language – it was subtle, but then again not. Adelle could recognize it so easily. She wondered what she had done in the past to precipitate this… this nightmare scenario. The mere logistics of it went far above her head. But it must have been something truly hideous, whatever it was, and Adelle suddenly wondered if she really wanted to know the details.

 _"At this point, I'm sure you've met the Actives. They're the childlike people, here. You have nothing to fear from them. Trust each other. Keep each other safe."_ She stilled, quietly, and then said in a somber tone, _"This is all any of you have left."_

The recording ended, and the screen froze with Adelle staring off into the camera with a look of quiet suffering on her face. A moment of choking silence sunk in.

"No offense," Dominic said softly at her side, breaking the silence, "But I really wish you could have been a little less vague and foreboding in your message."

Adelle laughed quietly.

* * *

Of all the things possible, by late evening the big gossip around the place had to do with the communal showers. Apparently even grown individuals with memory problems and cabin fever issues could still be preoccupied like blushing teenagers at the prospect of nudity and water. Adelle held no such qualms.

After a few more hours of organization and calming the masses, Adelle was ready to slip out and take a shower. She grabbed some spare clothing she found in the upper office, and walked towards the eastern quadrant where the washroom facilities were located. She heard the shower running long before she approached the obscure glass walls, and though she had no problems with communal showers, she knew others might not be as accepting.

She called out, "Is anyone there?"

It surprised her when Dominic answered back. "Uh, yeah. Just give me a second. I'm almost done."

Adelle quieted, suddenly picturing her Head of Security in the buff beyond the screens. The imagery was… distracting, to say the least. She cleared her throat and waited patiently until the showers stopped, before she heard the rustle of clothing. When Dominic rounded the corner, he had a towel wrapped around his waist, and little else on.

Adelle did her best not to let her gaze drop or wander, but for a second, her eyes had a mind of its own. She watched rivulets of water run down the natural hard lines of his chest. His well-toned chest, and broad shoulders, too. Adelle snapped her eyes up, mustering a carefree smile as he approached.

"Good shower?" she tried, hoping she didn't sound like one of those insufferable schoolgirls.

Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he was a gentleman enough about it to pretend otherwise. He shrugged indifferently to her question. "Warm. That's all I care about."

They stood there for a second, an awkward silence sinking in as water dripped down from his damp hair. In this light, though, Adelle suddenly noticed something else. There were faint bruises on his body, and he seemed pale. So pale, in fact, that she was surprised she hadn't noticed it before. It looked as if Dominic hadn't seen daylight in weeks, if not months, and she had no idea what to think of the fading bruises. Her eyes drew to one on his right forearm, and she stepped closer.

"What is this from?" she asked.

Dominic remained silent.

"Right," Adelle said, nodding. "An amnesiac wouldn't know, would he? Silly question."

"I think…" Dominic began, voice unusually low as he glanced down at the discoloring, "I'm not sure. It looks like it might be from an IV needle. That sometimes happens when it's not properly put in or pulled out completely straight."

Adelle wasn't sure how to respond to that. Dominic seemed in excellent health, a fact that seemed glaringly obvious when standing in front of his half-nude form. What medication had he been on?

"Poor medical service, here, then," Adelle said, to fill the choked silence. "I'm surprised by that."

"Or I got impatient and pulled the damn thing out myself. I don't think I'm particularly a tolerant man when it comes to medical treatment."

They didn't remember names or details, but Adelle found it reassuring that the personalities were still intact. At least they knew who they were, likes and dislikes, even if they almost didn't. It was a cold comfort but Adelle would take what she could get.

"Well, I'll…" Dominic said, hesitantly, "I'll leave you to it."

They stared at one another for a beat, and then Dominic stepped aside and let her pass. Adelle began untucking her shirt as she walked across the stone floors, and when she glanced back, she caught Dominic's stare before he snapped it away quickly.

Well, this could be the beginning of something interesting.

* * *

"I am not sleeping in a glass coffin," Dominic protested.

Sierra looked confused. "They're very comfortable."

Adelle mustered a false smile. "You're welcome to keep them. We'll make other arrangements."

The majority of the group filed out of the rooms, and they all seemed to turn to Adelle for further instructions. She stared for a beat, caught off-guard, before she regrouped. They distributed people across several of the recreational rooms, and brought out yoga mats for extra cushioning.

Topher stayed in his lab, looking like he might not sleep at all because he was so fascinated by all the technology there. He seemed intent on discovering whatever happened down here, despite the warning in the video. Adelle was torn: a part of her wanted to know, and then another part of her wanted to live in blissful ignorance. Either way, the situation would hopefully remedy itself in another day or so.

"What's up there?" Dominic said, pointing to a small room hidden in the back, on the third upper floor.

"The Attic," Sierra informed. "We don't go in there."

"It's scary there," Victor added.

Adelle watched as Dominic's face paled, and as if suddenly struck by a spell, he started towards the stairs.

"Mr. Dominic," Adelle tried, "I'm sure there's plenty of space downstairs for sleeping arrangements. Perhaps this exploration could wait until morning?"

Dominic ignored her. He continued up the stairs, and Adelle couldn't tell why, but something was warning her away from that room. A foreboding chill went up her spine, but she fought it, trailing after Dominic almost despite herself. The facility was largely innocuous, but every so often they'd stumble upon a weapon's chamber or something that looked strange and possibly dangerous. There was a chair in the backroom of Topher's laboratory that looked to be straight out of a science fiction movie. God only knew what its purpose was.

When they arrived at the door, there was a biometric scanner outside that limited access. Dominic tried his hand at the fingerprint identification device and the door whooshed open immediately. There was an empty and dark room inside.

Dominic entered first, but there was something off about his movements, like he had to _make_ himself move. His eyes swept the area from side to side, and she hadn't noticed until now, but he had a weapon out and drawn.

Paranoia made her move slowly and cautiously into the room after him.

It was unlike any of the other rooms in the facility. To one side, there were computer monitors with blank screens. On the other, there were chambers filled with a strange row of large metal drawers. There were more rooms in the back. It appeared to be a massive morgue, but Adelle somehow knew it wasn't. This room served some other purpose. Something else was housed in those drawers besides dead bodies.

"Let's get out of here," Dominic announced suddenly, voice sounding rough.

He turned around so abruptly that Adelle collided with him. Adelle steadied herself with hands braced against his sturdier frame and instinctively Dominic caught her before she lost balance. And, then, suddenly, she was quite aware of the distance between them – or lack thereof. There were barely centimeters apart, face-to-face, and her heart raced, breath lodged in her throat as she looked up at him.

"Hello," someone startled them from behind.

They both jumped as if burned, and before Adelle could even register who it was, Dominic had his gun aimed. The timid voice belonged to a young woman, with dark hair and a white lab coat on. She stepped out of the shadows of the Attic, where apparently she had been hiding.

Her nametag identified her as Claire Saunders.

"Dr. Saunders?" Adelle greeted.

The woman blinked, hardly any recognition appearing. That wasn't unusual, given the circumstances, but there was something vacant, almost alien and empty about her gaze. Adelle found herself thankful for Dominic and his gun.

"I liked the dark," she said at length, in a disturbing voice that was flat and monotonous. "There was so much noise downstairs. So many people. I didn't like that. I came up here because of the quiet. And the dark."

Her first thought was that Claire was like the other Actives, the ones like Sierra and Victor. But there was something even stranger about this one that Adelle couldn't pinpoint. She stared at Adelle with a look that seemed to go right through her, and as if sensing a possible threat, Dominic immediately moved in front of Adelle.

"What's your name?" he demanded. "What do you remember?"

She blinked at him. "My name is Whiskey, and I remember nothing. And everything. And nothing again."

Dominic released a small groan of annoyance. "Fantastic. She sounds like a broken doll."

It was decidedly disturbing when Whiskey smiled.

* * *

They brought Whiskey down to the bottom floor, where the other Actives seemed to know what to do with her better than anyone. They welcomed her into their fold, and she went quietly to bed in one of the sleeping chambers in the floor.

"Okay, this is just getting creepy," Dominic observed.

"Getting?" Topher echoed, incredulous. "I get that you're a little slow, but this is coming up on Special School Bus observations."

"Look, you little piss-ant—"

"Gentlemen," Adelle cut in, before either could get started.

… Or Topher could end up bleeding on the floor, which was a distinct possibility given the dangerous look growing on Dominic's face. He'd been a little more tightlipped since coming down from the Attic, and Adelle had no idea if that was due to Whiskey's presence, or… something else entirely.

"I'm going to sleep," Dominic grunted in an annoyed voice.

He left, disappearing to some distant corner of the facility. Adelle was tempted to track him down, but something told her it would probably be best to leave him be. She had no idea what drew her to him especially considering she barely knew a thing about the man, but Adelle still trusted her instincts. Dominic needed space.

Resigning herself to solitude, Adelle picked a quiet room on the bottom floor, and curled up in one of the chairs. There were few blankets, though, and the room grew colder as the hours passed. Though exhausted and worn thin, Adelle struggled for sleep for several hours. When she finally managed it, sleep was far from restful.

She dreamt. Horrible things. Things she couldn't understand but the flavor of terror left her gasping awake, coated in a cold sheen of sweat. Adelle didn't remember the details of her nightmare, but for that she was thankful.

She gave up sleep after a while, and waited silently for the others to join her. Except it was hours before the others would rise, and Adelle became restless. When the cold and silence grew to be too much, Adelle went looking for anyone that could keep her company. First, though, she needed to find something more suitable to wear than her blouse and knee-length skirt. It was fashionable, but hardly practical for her current situation.

She remembered the others remarking about a wardrobe room nearby, and went hunting for it. Before she could find it, though, she stumbled upon a room with the lights still on.

Dominic was inside, cleaning his gun. The back wall had a small locker to it, and inside was a row of armory including assault rifles and shot guns. Dominic had settled down for the night with the weapons cache; somehow, that didn't surprise her.

"Couldn't sleep?" she offered.

"I apparently wasn't the only one."

She took that as an invitation to enter, even if it hadn't been one. She settled down opposite of him, across the table, and for the first few minutes Adelle was content to watch him clean the guns.

When he finally broke the silence, it was with a question. "Do you know how to use a gun?"

Adelle paused. She wasn't sure, one way or another. She didn't feel any sense of fear around guns, but neither was she comfortable. If she had to guess, she would have said she knew how to use one, but didn't particularly like the need of it. Guns seemed blunt and unforgiving, and Adelle preferred a little more finesse than that.

Strange that she couldn't remember her name this morning, but she had such an informed opinion about guns.

To Dominic, she merely said, "If I don't know how, I guess it's time to learn?"

He nodded, business-like. "I'll teach you in the morning."

She studied him quietly, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the slight mess of his hair. He looked like she felt – _haunted_ by something to which neither could put a name to. And Dominic was a man that prided himself on presentation; she had that feeling. He wore a suit, just like she wore a skirt, when everybody else woke up in various forms of pajama wear. It said something about the pair of them, she thought.

The pair of them.

It was probably the lateness of the hour that made her think of all the permutations that phrase could mean. He was a handsome man, and she trusted him – implicitly. Adelle didn't think she was the type of person to trust easily.

She shook her head, dispelling the thought before it could lead to foolish actions. "Come, Mr. Dominic, we need to manage some sleep before tomorrow comes with whatever it has in store for us."

"I'm fine," he replied swiftly. "You go to sleep—"

"We all have our demons to contend with," Adelle spoke over him. "Hiding from them will do nothing, and we both need some rest." She paused, and then said softly, "please?"

It was the _please_ that got him, she knew. Reluctantly, he rose and put away most of the weaponry back into its proper place. Only a sidearm was quietly tucked under his waistband. Then they were walking back to one of the rooms in the western quadrant, where Adelle knew there was a pair of vacant sofas.

Dominic immediately crashed on one, took off his coat and was already shucking off his shoes. By the look of it, he looked agitated still and it occurred to her that he was only here because of her request. She highly doubted that he'd actually relax enough to manage sleep.

Whatever was bothering him from before, since his return from the Attic, was clearly still bogging down his mind.

She thought about asking him to talk, but she knew he'd have nothing to say. It wasn't as if any of them knew what was bothering them in the first place; it was all vague fears and apprehensions with an overwhelming sense of déjà vu.

When he stretched out against the couch, he looked up and for the first time noticed she hadn't moved since entering the room.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" he asked, nodding towards the adjacent sofa.

Instead, bypassing the spare couch, Adelle approached him. Without fanfare or permission, she proceeded to tuck herself against him, curling up against Dominic's side like both of them had agreed to these sleeping arrangements. He looked startled for a moment, but he didn't protest. After a beat, his arms went around her, and Adelle felt something dislodge in her throat, like a breath she hadn't been realizing that she was holding in.

They both shifted and found a comfortable position, one that left her pressed up alongside him, her back to his front, stretched out along the couch. He threw his coat over both of them, though it provided meager warmth. Adelle didn't care. For the first time all night, she felt safe and secure. His strong arms provided more comfort than she thought possible.

By the sound of the heavy sigh behind her, and the way she felt his body relax and melt back into the cushions, she knew he had gained a measure of comfort as well.

This would probably cause some trouble tomorrow, or the day after. Whenever they gained their memories back, there were going to be repercussions. Adelle found herself uncaring. Her other self – the one in the video – had laid this mess at Adelle's feet. The least she could do was deal with a little awkwardness, should it come to it.

Adelle sighed, and moments later, they were both blissfully asleep.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

The room was dark and soundless when Adelle awoke. Fighting the pull of a restful sleep, she turned over and snuggled closer toward the warmth of the body nearby; it didn't register that something was out of place. In fact, it took a minute or two for her to recall the events of the previous nights.

Her eyes opened, blinking, and Adelle found herself staring at the darkening stubble of a sleeping Laurence Dominic.

She was draped over him, both an arm and leg tossed over his body for leverage so she wouldn't fall off the edge of the sofa. The position should have been awkward but somehow it wasn't. Well, at least it wasn't until a mere split second later when Adelle remembered more than just the events of the previous night.

The Dollhouse, the imprinting, the signal… the betrayals.

Her memory was back – all of it.

Her eyes slid shut in mortification. Topher's experiment had run its course because she knew exactly who she was and what she was doing here. The air was chilly around them, and Dominic had his arm tucked around her waist, trapping her firmly in place. Adelle could feel the thud of his steady heartbeat beneath her.

His coat was still draped over her, and she drew it up as her mind flashed on the events of the previous night. She had slept with Laurence Dominic. In the literal sense, not the biblical one, but the implications were heavy enough anyway. This was going to cause nothing but complications. As if she didn't have enough of those already.

It was an indelicate process, trying to untangle her limbs from his. There was no way to do it without waking him up, so she wasn't particularly surprised when he started to move. He made a noise suspiciously like a moan and then blinked his eyes open, discovering Adelle.

"Hey," he breathed warmly, and something caught in her throat.

She then watched as he froze, the revelation catching up with him; she saw the exact moment when the memories of everything between them in the last five years took their toll.

That stung, far more than Adelle had expected it to.

He took in her state, and as much Adelle wanted to compose herself, find the right words in response, she was struck speechless.

Neither said a single word as they separated.

* * *

When Adelle emerged onto the ground floor, dressed and ready for a new day, half the people were already up milling about. The effects had worn off, and people everywhere greeted her with a relieved smile. Adelle couldn't return it, a small frown etched on her face as she threw her gaze about. Dominic was nowhere to be seen, and she wondered how long this round of awkwardness would last.

She was passing by one of the Active's sleeping chambers when she heard some thudding noise and then, a moment later, muted screams. The sound drew her attention immediately, and Adelle was rushing for the source. She found Whiskey in her bed chambers, pounding against the glass above her.

"Hold on!" Adelle tried, dropping to her knees. "I'll get you out of there."

It was difficult to manage, but eventually another pair of hands joined and she turned to find Victor helping her. "Why is she scared?" Victor asked.

They wedged the glass pane open, and then Whiskey was struggling to get out, gasping for breath as if she had been suffocating. It took Adelle a moment to figure out the reason – this wasn't Whiskey anymore.

"Dr. Saunders?" she voiced.

"Oh, god," Claire whispered in fear, catching her breath. Color flooded back to her face, and she took a few quiet moments to regroup. Her eyes slowly widened with realization, and she muttered a soft, "oh."

"Yes," Adelle said. "Topher's experimentation went wrong. How much do you remember?"

There was a long beat of silence.

 _I remember nothing. And everything. And nothing again._

Claire finally answered, "I remember enough."

Adelle stared at her, unsure of what to say.

"Are you all right?" Victor asked her.

Claire glanced up, quickly composing herself. "Yes, of course. Thank you for asking, Victor."

Adelle rose in the same moment that Claire did, and both women stared at each other. What could you say to a person who was confronted with such an ugly truth about themselves? Over the years Adelle had grown to respect and greatly admire the hidden tenacity of Dr. Claire Saunders, but the original personality had been nothing but a construct and a copy of someone else. Dr. Saunders was as real as Whiskey, easily wiped clean.

Claire forced a smile. "If you'll excuse me…"

She left without another word.

"That wasn't Whiskey, was it?" Victor asked Adelle. "Whiskey fell asleep and never woke up."

Adelle nodded. "Yes, Victor."

Victor smiled. "I'm glad. I like Dr. Saunders. She's nice. She gives me lollipops and helps me to be my best."

Adelle flinched. She couldn't articulate why, but suddenly sharing a conversation with Victor after the events of the previous day was too much. She quickly excused herself and left him behind, walking swiftly towards her office. Adelle knew now what it felt like to have no identity. She knew the confusion, the fear, and the loss of something that was rightfully yours. It had only lasted a day, the effects far more superficial than any of the Actives.

Adelle felt ill.

She was halfway up to her office when she saw Topher's laboratory. Even just from a glimpse, she saw something that disturbed her. The place was trashed. Someone – and she was willing to bet she knew exactly who – had demolished the place. Equipment had been thrown to the floor, papers shredded and torn, and the writings on the walls had been scribbled and crossed out.

Topher had himself another meltdown.

Closing her eyes, Adelle took a second to brace herself. Then she walked into the lab and searched for Topher. She found him in the corner, hunched over a worktable, furiously scribbling something down in a notepad. Clearly, the consequences of his failed experiment had caught up with him.

"Topher," she said softly, and settled down beside him against the worktable.

There was nothing else to say, though, so she just pressed a hand to his shoulder. They stayed like that for some time; Adelle able to offer no comfort other than her company. She wasn't even sure if Topher knew she was there, but she liked to think he did even if he barely gave her a second glance. The window that gave view of the Atrium below was almost out of sight, but Adelle found her gaze drawn to it. She thought of Claire, and Victor. She thought of all the actives; she thought of Dominic. So much misery, so much denied – they couldn't go on like this.

It was up to Adelle to change the tide.

Her eyes drew back to the imprint chair, and slowly Adelle pushed off against the table and approached it. The source of their problems; perhaps their only solution. The answer crept up on her, almost without Adelle knowing it. But when it did, she was surprised it had taken her this long to come to the decision.

There was no making up for past sins, but that didn't mean she had to keep living in sin.

"Gather the Actives," she said suddenly.

Topher glanced up, blurry eyed. "What? Why?"

* * *

The imprint chair lit up, glowing with the faint tint of electricity running through its veins. Adelle watched silently as Sierra grimaced under the semi-circular cerebral headgear, and then slowly rose as the chair lifted into an upright position.

"Hello," Adelle greeted. "Please, don't be afraid."

Priya Tsetsang blinked at her. "What?" she asked in an annoyed bark. "Five years up already?"

* * *

There was another flash, another imprint, and then Victor rose as a man named Michael Dellucci, a 28 year old Iraqi veteran with a severe case of post-traumatic stress. He wanted to forget, Adelle remembered. Michael Dellucci had been a man running from his memories, from a war. Now he had woken up to an entirely new one.

"Mr. Dellucci," Adelle greeted. "Welcome back."

Michael glanced to Topher, then back at Adelle with confusion. "What's going on?"

She couldn't quite manage a smile. "There's been a change in plans. You've been released from your contract prematurely."

"I have? I didn't know that was possible."

"Extenuating circumstances," Adelle offered.

* * *

Claire Saunders stood off to the side.

She had been an unmovable statue through the entire process, watching as one Active after another went through their final imprinting process. Adelle could only imagine what was going through Claire's mind. Implicitly, the decision to join the other Actives and be imprinted with her original personality was left entirely to Claire's discretion. Adelle wasn't going to push one way or another because Claire presented a unique case.

Adelle wouldn't just be giving a life back. With Claire, she would be taking one too.

As if sensing her scrutiny, Claire looked up and locked eyes with Adelle.

When they had first met, this woman had been entirely different: Torri Morgan, a twenty-something year old prostitute living off the streets of LA. She was nothing like Claire Saunders. Her speech had been crude, her clothes had been tight and revealing, but the attitude had been all front. Torri Morgan was a scared little girl, who signed her life away because she didn't think anyone else could do worse than what she had done to herself.

Adelle wondered what Claire would think of Torri Morgan.

Calmly, Adelle approached her, but she had no idea how to broach the topic. What was a discreet way of going about this? She didn't think there was one. Adelle waited for a male Active to walk passed them through the open doors and watched quietly as he took his place on the imprint chair.

"Have you ever heard of Loki?" Claire asked, breaking the hush. "He was one of the greatest Norse Gods, called the Trickster."

Adelle paused. "I've heard of him, but I'm not particularly familiar with mythology."

Claire nodded, and explained, "He was a shape-shifter. So many identities, so many lives, so many lovers. He was always causing problems with his contradictory nature, and you see," Claire said, turning to face Adelle, "it was Loki, with his many faces and his many lies, who began the chain of events that lead to the destruction of the gods."

Adelle's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand. Are you comparing yourself to Loki?"

"No," Claire said. "I'm not Loki in this story. You are, Adelle."

It was like a slap across the face and Adelle could only stare.

"I know who I am," Claire said with finality. "And I'm done following your lead."

Adelle paused quietly, then finally she let the matter drop with a nod. She took that as Claire's final decision on the matter and walked away without another word. Adelle approached Topher and whispered something to him as he finished off imprinting Delta. Adelle made sure Topher kept Torri Morgan's wedge aside, since it wasn't going to be in use, but she also made sure it was kept safe.

Just in case.

* * *

Foxtrot was next: "Ms. Carver, do you remember me?"

Romeo: "Mr. Anderson."

Tango: "Ms. Dillinger."

Hotel: "Ms. Timmons."

Bravo: "Mr. Murphy."

Lima: "Ms. Williams."

It went on like that for hours.

By the end of the day, Adelle felt exhausted. Once they had all been restored, Adelle gathered the group together and the situation had been explained to everyone: the Chinese, the signal, the wiped individuals, and lastly, the early termination of their contracts. Everybody stared at her, stunned into silence. Not a single one of them had been able to formulate a coherent response to Adelle's little tale of woe.

But soon, the questions would begin.

And then, Adelle was sure, the accusations.

* * *

According to her watch, it was a quarter passed three in the morning before she managed to escape. For tonight, she was done with all of it. She just wanted rest. Yet that possibility quickly proved unlikely when she opened her office doors to discover Dominic lounging in her chair.

He had his legs up on her desk and he looked lazy, relaxed, but Adelle could discern a slight tension in his shoulders. She hadn't seen him all day. Apparently, the reality of waking up to find her in his arms had left him hiding out, but now she suddenly wondered if he'd been waiting for her here.

"How long have you been here?"

Dominic swiveled a little in his chair. "A while. Came down to watch you imprint some of the dolls. You were so focused you didn't even see me."

She moved to sit down on the sofa, removing her stilettos one heel at a time. "And?" she prodded, expecting the usual biting comment.

"You did a good thing today," Dominic said instead.

Adelle froze, caught off guard. She didn't think she'd hear such words falling from Laurence Dominic's lips ever again.

Suddenly, the memory of last night was stark and apparent, the pink elephant in the room. It took one day – just one day of memory loss and she had sought comfort in his arms like a familiar lover. They stared at each other and Adelle didn't even know where to begin. Neither had ever been particularly talented at talking about what lay between them, a fact that was readily apparent given they had repressed their emotions for so long.

"You remember," Dominic broke the hush, "in our second year together, we had that client, the Senator from Arizona?"

Adelle paused, dredging up the memory. "Yes. Why?"

"I nearly got made during that op," Dominic informed her. "A fellow NSA agent had been following the Senator for some time, and he spotted him coming out of the Dollhouse. Then he spotted me. He recognized me on sight and later made contact."

This was all news to Adelle. She sat quietly, legs crossed at her ankles, hands falling to fold neatly in her lap. She waited for Dominic to continue, but there was a slight bitterness to her silence, suddenly reminded of all the times he'd made a fool of her.

"I was this close to getting my cover blown, and that was when I realized it. I was in over my head."

"Why?" she prompted in a cool voice. "Surely you had anticipated complications in being a double agent. I can't imagine that you were caught that off-guard by the development."

Dominic leveled her with a look she couldn't read. At length he said, "I was more afraid of you finding out about my deception than I was about the Rossum Corporation finding out about it. The job had gotten personal at some point. Because of you."

Adelle didn't know how to respond for a moment, until she managed, "And still, the deception continued."

"Of course it did. We're both professionals. You wouldn't have done anything different."

But there was the way he said it, almost softly, like there was an apology belying the words spoken. In all their many years together, in all their many conversations, she'd thought she'd come to recognize every one of Dominic's moods. This one was one she had never seen before.

"What do you want me to say to that, Mr. Dominic?"

"Don't call me that."

She paused. "Laurence."

He smiled, more of a smirk, then reached for a crystal wineglass resting nearby. "I was in the Attic most of the day," he told her as he swirled the glass and took a sip. "I hadn't been back there since I'd gotten out, and yesterday when we were… I remembered something."

It was almost painful for Adelle to ask, "What?"

"They used my body for experiments. Before they did anything to your precious dolls, they tested it out on me. You see, I shouldn't remember that because my brain was fried like scrambled eggs. But Topher was right: fucking neurons remember everything." He swiveled again, angling himself toward her. "Did you ever think twice about sending me there? Did you even care about what you _did_ to me in that hellhole?"

She rose, approaching the desk and Dominic dropped his legs to the floor. He faced her as she approached in long even strides, and almost instantly the details of the night upcoming formulated in her head. She reached for Dominic's half-empty wineglass, and Adelle lifted it, finding bourbon inside. She finished it off quickly.

"I wept," she informed him. "That first week, I think I wept everyday until I just couldn't anymore. You were my weakness, and like cancer I had to cut you out."

There was a lengthy pause, and Adelle couldn't force herself to maintain eye contact. As crude as it was, that had been a confession. It wasn't often that she let her guard down, and admitting to the act of crying was nothing short of admitting to a weakness. And Adelle DeWitt never tempted fate by doing such things.

There was a beat, just another pause in a long line of them, and then calloused hands found her hips. Dominic slowly tugged her around the corner of the desk and into the space between his legs. Her eyes connected with his and she saw something that stole her breath. Slowly, with deliberate intent, he began untucking her blouse from her skirt. Heat pooled within her body, but Adelle merely watched, eyes never leaving his, as Dominic began undressing her with a methodical slowness that had no right to be as seductive as it was.

This had been a long time coming.

Without awaiting for any sort of permission, Dominic leaned forward and nuzzled his face against the warmth of her belly, then dragged a hot, wet mouth along her exposed skin. She jumped a little, and couldn't stop her eyes from slamming shut, body fighting off a dark shiver.

"There you go, Ms. DeWitt," he said, a cocky lilt to his voice.

A finger found his chin and lifted. "Don't call me that."

He smirked at her, and it should have broken her heart, it truly should have, to see that sinful smile and those lost eyes. "Adelle."

There was another beat, and then Adelle wound her hand through his hair and tugged his head back. She leaned down and kissed him, open mouthed, tongue battling, leaving nothing back as lust fueled her. The chair squeaked a little as it rolled back, but it hit the desk and Dominic's hands went around her ass, squeezing tightly in encouragement.

Three years by her side. Two in the Attic.

Dominic had more reason to kill her than anything, and she wondered why this felt so _right_. So goddamn _heavy_ and utterly real in a way that few things were, anymore. The Dollhouse faded into the background; the Actives a distant thought. She curled her fingers around his tie, and poured into him everything she couldn't and daren't say.

"Christ," he muttered when they pulled apart, and Adelle agreed with the sentiment behind it because it was a little ridiculous how worked up she was getting just kissing him. He stared at her for a prolonged beat, and then said in a low accusatory voice, "The things you do to me."

"Consider it mutual," she offered him.

He kissed her, again and again and again. Urgency spurred him on, and she hissed when he bit her lower lip, getting rough. The conviction of his kisses made her vision blur, like if he wasn't inside her soon he'd scream, go those last few steps towards utter madness and just fly apart. He wanted her, and that persistent need was never more apparent.

So she straddled him in that chair, her skirt ridden up, and his warm hands found her flushed thighs. She ground down against his erection, and Dominic, God bless him, did his best to grind back up. Blood rushed in her ears, and she thought about all the things she had done to him, all the wounds he owned, and something in Adelle snapped. Something responded by tightening, low in her belly, a heat and wetness spreading between her thighs.

His fingers worked under her skirt and found her knickers. He dragged them down her sides, but her position on top of him wasn't helping. Unceremoniously, he lifted Adelle off his lap and dumped her onto the oak desk behind her, then worked the knickers down her legs.

"Do you have any idea how many fantasies I had about this?" he breathed to her darkly, crouching in front of her spread legs. "About you and me in this office?"

She couldn't really hazard a guess because she couldn't think a thought; Dominic's fingers swiftly found a target between her thighs and Adelle tossed her head back, a gasp escaping her lips. He was just rubbing, right there with the tips of his fingers, calluses she could feel even through all the wetness. He rubbed urgently, timed perfectly with the small, heady noises she made.

Adelle was too sensitive and it quickly became too much and she could fucking kill him if he decided to stop.

"C'mon," he urged. "C'mon, damn it. _Come for me._ "

He said it like he wanted it more than her.

Dominic continued relentlessly and colors danced in front of her closed eyes until she came, a rough cry escaping her lips. As she got her breathing under control, she slowly swept a strand of her tousled hair away from her eyes and met his. Dominic was still crouched, staring up at her with a look that nearly took her breath away all over again.

She ran her fingers along the nape of his neck and then he bolted up, hands going around her waist and pulling her into his arms. Adelle fit neatly into his embrace as he carried her toward the sofa like a man with a mission.

There were no words. They never needed any.

He laid her down and they kissed, his body settled heavily over hers. Dominic was a solid weight, all strong muscles and soft bruises, a mix of heady musk with gunpowder. He hadn't shaved in two days, a record, and he scraped the sandpaper stubble across her neck and down. He peeled away her blouse, and his hands brushed aside her bra before his mouth claimed her breasts one at a time. Adelle choked back a gasp.

He smirked. Arrogant bastard.

She pushed him back by the shoulders, maneuvering him so that he was lying underneath her on the sofa. "I think you've had enough command for the moment."

Adelle wanted to explore this slow but there was such an undercurrent of urgency that she wasn't sure how long either of them would last. Still, she took deliberate slowness in stripping him, unfastening the buttons down his shirt. When she pushed the material off his shoulders, her fingers ran over the soft bruises on his lower abdomen.

He sucked in a breath, and Adelle smiled.

Her lips skimmed his chest and Dominic groaned when she sucked on the beads of sweat that had started to break out over his body. She ran her hands all over him, luxuriating in the flex of his well-toned muscles, reveling in the feel of finally being able to touch him. Slowly, she trailed her hand down his sternum and then underneath his waistband, palming his erection in her hand.

"Oh, _fuck me_ ," he breathed roughly.

"That _is_ the intent," she murmured back.

His eyes squeezed shut and his face darkened in rapture. Adelle kept her strokes slow and deliberate, watching the pleasure ripple across his face with avid affection. There was a look of need that bordered on pain and Adelle felt transfixed by it.

But then there was just need left behind, a persistent blinding need between her thighs. In short order, she had his belt undone and clothing tugged free. Then, with her skirt still trapped around her waist, Adelle settled heavily on top him, taking in the full length of his shaft with a gasp.

They both groaned, resting with her hands against his chest, overwhelmed and immobile as she adjusted to the feeling of Laurence Dominic inside her.

"Adelle," he whispered, half her name sounding broken.

She pulled up and lowered back down, hands planted against his chest as she began to rock in a fast sway, hips rotating, grinding; the tension quickly mounting a thing that was agonizing and deviously erotic. Dominic's breathing became broken and ragged and _heavy_. He muttered her name in a dark, dirty little voice with words like _baby_ and _need_ and _want_ and _fuck_ , and her body picked up speed.

Her orgasm loomed in the distance and she couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't find a way to describe the way she was feeling except by the reckless sway of her hips. She felt the tension stiffening his belly and thighs. It built, and grew, and surged. She slanted her body, her hips rocked, and then he came, flooding her senses and pushing her own body over the edge with the rush of his release.

Pleasure rolled over her and she slumped over Dominic's chest, riding the wave until her body stopped shuddering with spasms. There were a few moments of utter silence while Adelle tried to get her breathing under control, where she was thinking of absolutely nothing but the blissful hum of her body.

Neither said a word, probably because neither knew exactly what to say. This wasn't… this wasn't how things were supposed to be between them. It didn't make sense, but Adelle found very little about her life did. Dominic ran the pads of his fingers across her naked thigh, the tacky sweat on their skin already drying in the cool air.

"Is this how you expected it to be?" she finally asked.

After a pause, he said, "I expected it to hurt more."

He wasn't talking about the sex.

She moved only to spoon against his side, and they were both drowsy but fighting the pull of slumber. When she eventually drifted asleep, there was a long blissful period where dreams abandoned her. She awoke some time later, only to find Dominic standing nude in the middle of her office, snapping the clip of his weapon back into place and checking the safety.

She could hear a commotion in the background, from downstairs.

"What is it?" she asked, bolting upright.

"Trouble," he stated with a dark look.

They both heard a gunshot ring out in the distance.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

The gun was in the hands of the new November, a slender African American woman with high cheekbones and flawless skin. She was gathering a collection of grenades too when Adelle and Dominic found her, but despite that fact that Alana Mayberry was a stunning woman with delicate hands, that didn't mean she couldn't handle the heavy weaponry she was gathering with disconcerting expertise.

She swiveled the aim around to Adelle and Dominic, fending off the growing crowd. "Don't move," Alana warned, eyes pinned on Dominic who had his own sidearm drawn.

"What's going on?"

"I'm dead," Alana answered, narrowing her eyes. "And this is hell." She spun the weapon towards Adelle, gesturing with it once. "And you're the devil."

Around them, a cluster of Actives had already gathered. Victor, Sierra, Foxtrot, India – Adelle still thought of them by their codenames; it was difficult after all these years to think of them as anything else. They didn't seem to know what was going on anymore than Adelle and Laurence did.

"She just started raiding the weapons cache," Victor explained.

Adelle looked to Dominic. "I thought that needed bio-scanner authorization?"

It was then that she noticed the unconscious form of Topher crumbled in the corner, and the pieces slid quickly into place. A wave of anger overtook Adelle, and she swiveled her accusing gaze back to Alana as the girl continued to raid their precious supplies.

"I want out," Alana said. "I want supplies, I want weapons, and I want out."

Adelle tried reason first. "Up there, it's too dangerous and you don't know what could happen."

"I know enough," Alana replied. "I am _not_ staying in this whorehouse any longer than I have to. You don't get to tell me what to do anymore, Ms. DeWitt. I'm going to leave. You don't stay out of my way, then I'll shoot—"

"You shoot and I'll shoot back," Dominic threatened. "And trust me, sweetheart, I'm the better aim."

Adelle added, "We have food and shelter. Everything you need—"

From the side, Sierra snorted in disdain. "Need. Where have I heard that before? _This isn't about what you want, Priya. This is about what you need._ Commando Girl is right. Maybe we should be heading up there."

"Just wait a second," Victor cut in – no, _Michael_ , she reminded herself. "Everybody calm down."

"I am calm," Alana insisted. "I know what I'm doing."

Michael threw her an annoyed glare. "Oh, really? And what is your plan, exactly?"

Alana glanced to Adelle. "Right now, I'm thinking about putting a bullet between her eyes."

Adelle stiffened, facing off against the naked repulsion and accusations on Alana's face. She wouldn't lie; that stung. Not that it was undeserved. But below that instinctual reaction, Adelle felt something else take hold. She was _tired_ of this ineffectual guilt; she couldn't let it rule her life and she wasn't going to let it end it either.

Adelle raised an eyebrow, challenging. "You can run, you can hide, you can even put me in the ground. None of that will alter reality in the slightest. We are survivors of an apocalypse of our own making. Despite what you may tell yourself, Ms. Mayberry, no one forced you into this world. You picked it. Now you have another choice in front of you. Stay and live, or run and die."

"How about option C?" Priya cut in. "You tell us the world has ended up there, but we've got nothing but your word. And, this may seem surprising to you, lady, but we've got a little bit of trouble with the idea of trusting you."

"What reason would I have to lie?"

"I don't know, but that doesn't make me trust you any more."

"Okay," Michael interrupted, waving a hand in the air. "I think everybody just needs to take a deep breath, and put away their guns. Or least don't point them in my direction. We're all tired and confused. Don't go blowing shit up because of that. We need to figure out what's going on before—"

"Look at this place," Alana insisted. "We're in a fucking zoo. We're animals trapped here. Why? Why?"

"You'll die," Adelle explained simply. "Maybe not physically, but the signal will get to you and you won't be able to withstand the effects."

Alana stilled, heavily considering her options. Alana wasn't foolhardy, though. Adelle could tell. This girl had been in the Air Force before making a contract with Rossum; she was trained and educated as a soldier, and as much as Adelle wanted to attribute this to some sort of hysteria, it was obvious the girl was as calm and collected as she claimed.

"I can't stay here forever," Alana said.

"No one is insisting that we will," Adelle responded. "This is temporary—"

"Temporary for how long? Are you keeping us prisoners here?"

"Of course not."

"Then let me go." Alana's face hardened. "Because I can't accept any other answer. If I have to choose between the hell up there, and the one down here, then I choose up there."

Adelle paused, but surprisingly it was Dominic that came to the decision. He lowered his weapon to the floor, and Adelle could only watch, stunned. "One weapon, and two extra magazines," he offered. "That's all you get."

Alana nodded. "That's all I'll need."

* * *

People were still gathering downstairs, and two other former actives had already volunteered to accompany Alana to the surface. The plan was to leave at the first light of dawn, four hours from now. Adelle felt sick. She had no right to hold any of them here against their will, but it was a horrendous thought, sending her people out there like lambs for the slaughtering.

"You had no right to make that decision," she told Dominic, when they returned to the privacy of her office. "This will cause panic."

"They need to see for themselves," Dominic insisted with a heavy voice, walking away towards the blinds. The view was fake, but it still felt comforting from time to time. "They need to decide for themselves. You don't understand, Adelle. This place, for you, it was your house. For the rest of us, it was… it was hell itself."

There was something about the way he said it. Adelle studied him in the dark corner of her office, watching his shoulders bunched up and tense. His sidearm was tucked neatly under his waistband, and he wasn't looking at her.

Fear gnawed at her. "Laurence?"

He finally turned around. "You remember how to use a weapon?"

"Lauren—"

He pulled out his sidearm and showed it to her. "The magazine slams into this position at the bottom. Make sure you hear the click to know it's secure. The safety is here near the ridge. Aim with your arm straight and shoot. You'll feel a kickback, so you should practice in the firing range when you get the chance—"

"Laurence," she cut in, her voice desperately soft. "What are you doing?"

He looked her in the eye, confirming what she already knew. "I'm leaving."

It took a full two seconds for Adelle to find her voice. "Why?"

Dominic glanced away, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he strode back to the window. Adelle merely watched him, feeling something… _something_ tighten in her stomach. It should have been anger; it should have been pain. After what transpired between them a mere hour ago in this very room, Dominic owed her answers. His silence should have infuriated her.

Instead, Adelle felt very, very small.

"I can't stay here," he recovered eventually. "This place is my living nightmare, and I've tried. Goddamn it, I've tried. But I can't stay here and expect my sanity to last."

At length, Adelle simply said, "I see."

"If I head south of the border where there isn't as much tech, I might be able to survive. I was thinking Mexico. There's a place called Zihuatanejo near the ocean. I'm good on boats, and the water will be clear of the signal."

He looked to her then, and Adelle didn't know what he saw in her face. Adelle didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing even the barest hints of emotion there. He didn't deserve that. Except… except she wasn't fully in command of herself. That ever-rigid control she usually had – it felt distant, far out of reach.

"And I suppose it matters little that you and I just slept together?" she offered into the choking silence. "Or was that just a fun roll in the sheets for you? You've had what you've wanted, and now you can leave."

His eyes closed briefly, misery etched all along his features. "It's not like that. It matters. Christ, it matters a lot."

"Clearly, not enough."

He looked to her. "Adelle, I didn't—"

"Don't," she warned him, cutting him off in a cool voice. "Whatever your reasons are, I'm sure they're valid. No need to explain, Mr. Dominic. I understand enough."

She turned away, striding back towards the door so that she could make a quick exit before she let her emotions make a fool of her. God, she _was_ a fool. She quickly reached the door, fisted her hands around the knob, but before she could pull it open, Dominic wrenched her around and pinned her back against the hard wooden surface.

"Let me go," she said, threatening.

"You don't understand," Dominic insisted. "This isn't… you're the one thing about this place I don't want to leave. I tried to hate you. I fucking tried hard enough that I almost convinced myself. But it never took. I couldn't hate you. I could _never_ hate you."

His grip on her didn't ease. His body was pressed up against hers, and she could feel the hard muscles she had only recently come to know in an intimate fashion. Adelle cursed the fact that she had slept with him because the memory seemed taunting now, perhaps humiliating. She could no longer control what she felt for this man, or her emotions for him.

Once again, though, she was confronted with the fact that whatever he felt for her, it wasn't enough.

She wouldn't beg him to stay. She wouldn't.

"Damn you," she said. "Let me go."

Instead, he kissed her. Adelle should have resisted – oh, she should have done so many different things. But as she had learned the hard way around Dominic, there was little controlling these instincts. The kiss was brutal, teeth biting and lips swollen red with assault. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he lifted. She buried fingers into his hair and dragged nails along his scalp, mouth busily warring with his. He carried her to the sofa, then quickly undid his belt blindly with one hand as he settled heavily atop of her.

It shocked her how much she wanted this. How much she needed it.

She had usually never been one for goodbye-fucks.

* * *

In total, the volunteers numbered seven.

Besides Dominic and Alana, there were a few employees and former Actives that chose to join the expedition. Adelle was surprised to see Ivy among them, standing with a small throw bag over her shoulder. They passed each other with an acknowledging nod, and Adelle prayed she would once again see the other woman after today.

Victor and Sierra stood off to the side. Adelle approached them, unsurprised by their proximity to one another. She noted that it certainly hadn't taken them long to gravitate towards each other, even among such a large crowd. Adelle wasn't remotely surprised.

"Have you reached a decision?" she asked.

Victor – _Michael_ – answered, "They're taking a camera up there. We're gonna watch from here, then decide. We can go in groups."

After a beat, Adelle nodded and left without a word.

This was wrong. They were all going to get themselves killed up there without a proper course of action. What could they do? Run and hide, that was it. She knew things were hardly ideal down here, but it wasn't the nightmare that everyone made it seem, was it?

"Ow," Topher said, coming up to her. "Can I ask, again, why you're giving the witch-with-a-B that knocked me unconscious everything she wants? Because I protest on the grounds that my head has a bump on it the size of a small third world country, and I so don't get workers' comp anymore."

Adelle raised an eyebrow and dismissed his complaints as normal Topher whining. Though, truthfully, it was refreshing to see Topher acting more like his regular sarcastic self. She was quickly coming to realize that Topher had his good days and his bad days. Adelle was glad to see today was one of the former. Maybe the knock to the head actually helped?

Topher glanced across the room, to Ivy, and then his face fell. "I should… I should probably say goodbye, or something."

Adelle pressed a hand to his arm. "This is hard on everybody, Topher. Just… just try to be understanding with her."

He left, and in the distance Adelle could vaguely hear him start talking to Ivy, sputtering on and on about signals and maniacs and a dozen other things that drifted in one ear and out the other. The forced levity of his words stung, but people had to make their own choices.

But Dominic was right: she could never understand _this_ choice. It seemed foolish to go out there without much of a plan.

"All right," Alana announced, adjusting the camera lens hooked up to her helmet. "It's time to head out."

They started to pile out of the room one-by-one, a mass exodus. Adelle stood towards the side, arms crossed over her chest. She watched as they left, some without even a backwards glance. Dominic approached through the crowd, decked in black tactical gear and carrying an AK-47 that was strapped across his chest.

"Brick up the wall as soon as we're through," he instructed. "Don't wait. We'll keep contact through the feed for as long as we can, but the first sign of a signal wave or trouble, we'll cut the feed. Topher says the signal won't jump through the feed, but I don't want to take the risk."

She nodded, well aware that they were suffering the scrutiny of others passing by. "Yes, well. Your professionalism is much appreciated, Mr. Dominic."

He waited until the last of the group cleared out, and when she glanced aside pointedly, the other members of the dollhouse quickly made themselves scarce. Had she not been so miserably downcast, she might have smiled. Apparently, they still had the ability to command a room with simply looks.

"Zihuatanejo," Dominic reminded her, and before she could question it, he was kissing her.

When they parted, he left without another word.

* * *

Adelle watched the monitor feed of Alana's camera as the group made their way through the back alleyways of Los Angeles. The city was even worse than last she'd seen. Buildings had crumpled over themselves, something that could have only been done with bombs. Conventional warfare had taken over.

Michael came up to stand beside her with his arms crossed in a manner much like Dominic had been doing earlier in the day. She didn't dwell on the comparison, instead watching the fallen wreckage on the screen, listening to the quiet static bursts and the sound of reverent silence on the other end.

"Could I speak to you for a moment?" Michael asked.

She nodded, and they turned to walk a distance away from the crowded room. Michael had changed from the athletic clothes the actives usually wore. Instead, starkly in contrast to Victor's normal attire, he was adorned in jeans and a simple black shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He must have raided the wardrobe section recently. Adelle glanced down briefly to her skirt and high heels, wondering if a change in her own clothing was in order.

Without Dominic, she was the only one that seemed intent on keeping up the business attire. It seemed foolish in a certain light.

When they reached a secluded corner, Michael asked, "How much supplies do we have?"

"Enough to last us seven, maybe eight months if we're frugal."

It seemed Michael had taken it upon himself to speak for the former actives that remained behind. For a few minutes, they discussed logistics of supplies, sleeping arrangements, and other details that had actually long ago been sorted out. Michael and the other actives couldn't remember that, though.

It was strange seeing him take charge like this. Of course she'd seen Victor with a dozen other personalities imprinted, most memorably Roger. This… this was different. She remembered sizing Michael Dellucci up when he'd first been approached by the Rossum Corporation. He'd walked through her doors with the look of a man that was haunted by unspeakable things. Heavy bags under his eyes, clothes disheveled and neglected, and he drank three cups of coffee during his four-hour tour of the facilities.

Most people were coerced into signing contracts with her house. Michael had signed up willingly, throwing himself into the program so that he could forget his past.

The man in front of her was certainly Michael Dellucci, but as Adelle studied him, she realized he was nothing like the man she remembered from all those years ago. This one was in control, in charge. Perhaps it was just an illusion, something temporary. But Adelle had always been an expert at sizing people up, and a part of her wondered if the pitch she'd given countless times to all those souls actually held some truth.

Maybe here, in the interceding years, Michael had grown. That despite having his memory wiped over and over again, he'd retained something and unseen scars had healed.

Of course, there were probably all-new scars to take their place.

Adelle decided to broach the subject. "How are you adjusting? To… everything," she finished, rather lamely.

Michael snorted, scrubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "Honestly, it's like waking up from a bad acid trip and I'm not exactly sure the joyride is over. I know it's been years – that I shouldn't remember anything about it. But… but things feel familiar. People feel familiar."

It didn't escape Adelle's notice that when Michael stared off into the distance, Priya was in sight. Adelle could almost have laughed, but somehow the humor was a touch brittle. Victor and Sierra had been dancing around each other for years now; Adelle hoped they'd just get on with it now, just to put an end to this never-ending parade of longing. It was almost insufferable to watch at this point.

But perhaps that was Adelle's own bitterness talking? Dominic was never a distant thought to her now.

"Do you think our memories will bleed through?" Michael asked. "Of our… operations, missions, whatever you called them."

"Engagements," Adelle offered.

"Yeah, those. Do you think it's possible for us to remember them?"

She thought of Alpha and Echo, and simply said, "I wouldn't be surprised if you did."

He held her gaze for a moment, eyes narrowing. "You seem familiar, too."

Adelle stiffened. "Do I?"

"Yeah. I can't pinpoint it, but I feel like I know you."

For a long stretch that spanned several seconds, Adelle couldn't find command of her words. Oh, god, if he knew that she had propositioned him – the thought was too embarrassing, too _degrading_. She glanced away, hoping her face didn't flush with the burning secret. Roger had been a moment of weakness, several moments, in fact. It had been unforgivable and wrong, but Adelle couldn't face that recrimination now. Not on top of everything else.

One day, perhaps, she'd gain the courage to tell him – to apologize. But today, Adelle wasn't that strong.

She smiled, dismissively. "I'm glad I left some sort of impression on you."

He just continued to stare at her, his scrutiny disconcertingly piercing.

"Uh, guys!" Topher hollered. "You better get back here! The group just got ambushed!"

At once, the conversation dropped and both Adelle and Michael rushed back to the room. The monitor showed static more than anything else, but Adelle could hear the screaming, the fear. As she turned to ask Topher what had happened, her voice was drowned out by the sound of gunfire erupting.

 _"Oh, god. Oh, god!"_

 _"What is he doing? Why is he—"_

Dominic's voice came over the feed. _"Split up! Split up! November, cover the retreat and take—"_

More screams cut him off.

Topher was typing furiously; doing what, Adelle had no idea. Her attention was riveted on the screen, which showed a whirl of obscure shadows and racing colors streaking across as Alana ran over uneven pavement. Adelle couldn't make out what was happening, but Alana was scared, breathing heavily. Alana broke off from the rest of the group and just ran, almost blindly.

"Novem—Alana," Adelle said, reaching for the communication piece. "Stay with the others. Stay with Dominic. Don't split up!"

Topher was still typing like a mad man. "This isn't good. I'm picking up something from their feed. Somebody's close by, with tech."

"What?" Michael asked him.

Topher looked desperately to Adelle. "Get them out of there! Now!"

But when Adelle turned back to the communication piece, Alana's blood-curdling scream ripped through the airways. Adelle had no idea what was going on, but the sound – dear God, she'd never heard someone scream like that. The camera tilted sideways, catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure, before Alana dropped and fell to the ground. Silence descended, unnerving in its contrast to the chaos from before.

"Alana?" Adelle tried. "Answer me! Alana?"

There was no reply, and the camera showed nothing but pavement. Then, a pool of blood slowly spread across black concrete, and Adelle flinched.

"Christ," Michael breathed. "What the hell happened to her?"

A pair of feet stepped into the puddle of blood, within sight of the camera – Alana's attacker. There was a moment of disturbance when someone removed the camera from Alana's helmet and brought it up. The monitor showed the close-up of someone's grin, a devilish smile that made Adelle's skin crawl.

 _"Well, well, well,"_ a familiar voice carried over the feed. _"Knock, knock, guess who?"_

The camera panned back to show Alpha's face, grinning.

"Oh, god," Adelle breathed, shocked.

 _"I've been waiting for someone to leave your dollhouse for_ weeks, _and then you send me half a dozen different treats. That really was considerate of you, Ms. DeWitt. I don't know how I can repay you."_

She immediately thought of Dominic out there, not far from this monster. A fear seized her unlike any other, and she attempted to find her voice. But Alpha panned the camera to show Alana's body, face carved up – like Claire and Victor before she'd provided for their plastic surgeries. Adelle's stomach rolled with a rush of sickness.

 _"Little pig, little pig. Let me in."_

Adelle turned frantically to Topher. "Cut the feed."

"What?"

"Cut the feed!"

After a few seconds of typing, he did. The screen went blank, a harsh static of white noise filling the air. Adelle wasn't willing to listen to anything the madman had to say, nor was she willing to see if Alpha had somehow managed to do the impossible yet again and create a wireless signal that could wipe everybody back here clean.

Alpha. Dear god, didn't they have enough concerns?

Michael stared at the blank screen, hypnotized and pale. "That man," he breathed, and his fingers stretched to his face, tracing lines that were no longer there. "I think I know that man."

"Topher," she said, turning to him. "Go to the back and cut the hardlines. Michael, take several others and double the barricades at the doors. No one should be able to get back in. No one!"

Michael stood frozen.

Adelle lost her patience. "Damn it, Victor! Move!"

He finally snapped out of his stupor, then rushed to follow her orders. Everybody scrambled out, but after a harrying second Adelle suddenly felt weak and pale. Left alone, her knees threatened to give way under her as she thought of Dominic in the hands of Alpha. Her stomach rolled, and before she knew it, her gag reflex rose. Adelle braced herself against the counter and threw up into a waste bin, but there was almost nothing in her stomach for Adelle to expel.

Dominic, Adelle kept thinking, and she felt like crying.

* * *

Hours later Adelle stood at the center of the Atrium, looking out across a sea of faces that all held stark, unrelenting fear. They were in complete and inescapable lockdown, and would remain so for the indefinite future. She could feel the panic rising in the air and though a part of her wanted to join it, Adelle DeWitt wasn't the type to cower. These people had freshly awoken to a hell they couldn't possibly understand, and now there was a sociopath added to the mix. They were trapped and scared, and god knew all of this was just a recipe for disaster. She needed to control the situation before it got out of hand.

"We've suffered a loss today," Adelle began, and took a moment to breathe, thinking of Dominic, before she soldiered on. "We've been hit, but there is still a chance for hope. By now you've heard the stories of Alpha. You've heard what's he done and what he's capable of. To many I'm sure he sounds like the devil himself."

Someone called out, "Is it true that he killed 19 Actives, once?"

Adelle ignored the question. "There is another story that you should hear as well. One that I think tells a better tale. This story is about a woman who faced Alpha and defeated him, single-handedly. Her name was Echo, an Active like many of you. We now call her Caroline and it is with her that our hope lies."

Sierra stepped forward. "Echo?" she whispered thoughtfully.

"She has the technology and skills to help us," Adelle explained. "Boyd has already left to find her, and when he does, he'll bring her here and we can all leave this place. You can all be free."

"You don't know that," Foxtrot called out. "You can't promise us that!"

Beside Adelle, Claire stepped forward. "You don't know Boyd. If he set out to bring her back, then she'll come back. He won't fail."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because," Claire answered with conviction, "he promised he'd come back to me."

Dead silence reigned for a few moments, before Adelle picked up again. "We have a choice before us. We can separate and go our different paths. November chose that and look what happened. If we want to survive, we must stay together. Fight together…" She paused again, trying not to the think of the question mark that was Dominic's fate. "Or we risk dying alone."

Claire stepped forward again. "I think… I think we should all say a prayer. I think that would help some of us."

Adelle glanced askew at her, unsure of how to react with the unexpected request.

Claire saw the look, and leaned in to whisper, "There has been plenty of clinical evidence that suggest group prayer and a support system can have an ameliorating effect on individuals in a highly charged and stressful environment." She paused. "Besides, you got any better ideas?"

Mutely, Adelle nodded in understanding.

Claire gathered everybody in a circle, and someone quietly slipped free to bring back candles and light them in the center. There was one among the crowd, a former active named Julia Hampton, that stepped forward first. She smiled hesitantly at the crowd, but Adelle was simply relieved not to be selected to lead the prayer. She would have had no idea what to say.

Julia bowed her head, and began, "I am humble in prayer. And even now I am hopeful that one day, we'll be able to go outside and I'll be able to see my family…"

The prayer circle continued for quite some time, everybody taking turns. Before Adelle's chance came round, she slipped free and left the crowd. She didn't want to stand there and say prayers; Adelle had never been remotely religious, and she didn't think God would appreciate her hypocrisy if she suddenly decided to try currying his favor now.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one that found the circle of prayers disconcerting.

Sierra smirked at her, and settled into the seat beside Adelle. "Can't stand the sight, either? Look at them. _Praying._ God, it makes me sick. If we're fucked, at least don't pretend otherwise. It's not like any of us have any place to go after this."

Adelle glanced aside. Priya Tsetsang was a woman who had been wronged in every way imaginable. Adelle didn't blame her in the slightest for being angry about it. Still, Adelle didn't know how to talk to Priya. It wasn't as if they were two strangers that could make small talk. She remembered all too well the particulars of Priya's contract; it had been one that Adelle had struggled with.

They sat side-by-side for a moment, watching the gathering.

"He gave you his sidearm, huh?"

Thrown, Adelle glanced up. "What?"

Priya nodded towards the gun that was tucked, half-hidden, underneath her blouse. "That's a pretty sweet weapon. I saw him cleaning it earlier."

"Mr. Dominic is an admirer of fine pieces of weaponry."

"I'm sure. For a guy like that, to give this to you when he knew he was headed out _there_?" Priya paused, provoking Adelle with a wry smile. "It must be love."

Adelle stiffened despite herself. The wound of Dominic was too fresh and painfully real, and Adelle wasn't sure she could handle anyone picking at it without her breaking down into a sobbing mess. She quietly tucked the edges of her blouse over the sidearm, covering it up. She moved to the sofa at the far end of the room, and Priya, much to Adelle's annoyance, followed after.

Her mind was half-preoccupied, though. She tried to comfort herself with the idea that maybe Dominic had escaped unharmed, but she knew Alpha and his capabilities too well. He would have gone directly after Dominic as soon as the opportunity presented itself. There hadn't been any love lost between the two because as she well remembered, Dominic had been the one to call attention to Alpha's irregularities prior to his compositing event.

She closed her eyes in horror. Dominic had been the one to see it all coming, hadn't he? _The sky is falling. The sky is falling._ If only Adelle had listened in the first place.

Priya whistled, waving a hand in front of Adelle's face to get her attention. "You look like you're gonna get an aneurism thinking that way." She tipped a smirk. "And then where would this lot be without their fearless leader?"

"I didn't think you'd want me as anyone's leader."

Priya shrugged. "No one else is volunteering. Way I see it, that position is more punishment than privilege."

Adelle stared her down, unflinching. It seemed as if Priya was playing a game, trying to goad Adelle into a confrontation. If that was the case, then Adelle wasn't in the mood. Whatever emotion or reaction Priya was trying to elicit from her, it wasn't going to work.

"What is it that you want, Priya?" she asked coolly.

Priya's smirk held firm. "Just making friendly conversation."

Silence reigned as they looked again to the crowd, watching Topher stand up and take his turn. He looked awkward, bowing his head and lifting his hands up in prayer, obviously parroting what others had done. Adelle nearly laughed when the first thing he gave thanks for was his PlayStation 3 and his private collection of Star Wars action figures that had managed to survive the apocalypse.

Her gaze briefly drifted across the crowd, surprised to see flickers of hope in the eyes of those huddled around the candles. Foolish, faint hope – but there it was. It was such a foreign concept that Adelle felt alien to the entire process. Could she even remember what hope felt like? She couldn't think of a thing that would make this nightmare end, and she knew half of the prayers said today would crumble into despair. The other half – well, their owners would be lucky to live long enough to see that despair come for them.

Yet, as cynical as she was, there was a small voice in the back of Adelle's mind, something tiny and whispering, ever hopeful; it kept looping one word over and over again: Zihuatanejo.

* * *

Seven months later when Echo threatened to put a bullet between her eyes, it was oddly that same word that came to mind. Zihuatanejo. Adelle didn't stop to think about why, but it had a calming effect over her as she stared coolly at Echo over the barrel of her gun. So, this was how it was going to end? Not by tech, not by an angry mob, not by starvation or madness. Not by her own hand, only Echo's.

Except Echo eventually lowered her gun. "No, you're not getting off that easily. Your punishment is to live with what happened. You've got to face reality."

"What is it," Adelle began, barely mustering enough energy to argue with her, "do you think I've been doing these last few months? I wasn't running a spa facility, Caroline. I've seen people killed. I've seen people go mad. Have you seen Topher yet? He's quite the changed man this New Years."

"You're not getting my pity."

"I don't want it."

Anger burned Echo's eyes. "How do you do that? How do you sit there with an air of superiority after everything you've done? Everything you've caused? I crawl through seven levels of hell to get back here, and you're just the same. I don't get that and I never will."

"It's not an air of anything," Adelle replied calmly. "I am simply accepting. Pull the trigger, or don't. I'm not saying I don't care about my life; quite the contrary, I do have a certain affinity to the process of breathing. But there is little to be done to change your mind, Caroline. You were always one to think for yourself. If what you want from me is blood, then take it. If what you want from me is penance, then know that I have given it freely for some time now."

Echo scoffed, turning away with a stark look of repulsion on her face. Such righteous indignation would have been far less tolerable, if it hadn't been so just. Still, Adelle had dealt with this, over and over again, for months. She'd been crippled by the guilt for some time, but harsh realities hadn't given her the leisure to spend all her time lamenting away like some forlorn damsel.

Adelle had done what she had done, and there was no changing that.

"We leave at dawn," Echo informed, taking a moment to breathe deeply. "All these little _lambs_ are getting out and headed for the compound. As for the rest of you, you can all go fu—"

"Caroline," Adelle stopped her. "The others… don't punish them. They don't deserve this." She thought of Topher, especially, and the idea of him being sentenced for any further crimes was sickening. He didn't deserve that; his mind couldn't handle it. "Please," she said softly, as close to begging as Adelle would come. "Don't punish them any further than what's already happened. They've suffered enough."

The anger in Echo's eyes melted a little, and after a beat, she nodded. "Fine," she said quietly. "We'll take anybody that wants to go."

Adelle eyed her, reading between the lines perfectly. "Anybody but me, you mean?"

Echo stared her down, then left without another word. Adelle sat there for a long moment, realizing it would be a just punishment more than any other. Adelle DeWitt and the Dollhouse – they deserved one another.

* * *

She found comfort in taking witness to the Circle, watching a man step forward and bow his head. "I am humble in prayer. I am grateful that I am not alone. I miss my brother and little sister greatly, but I feel as if I have a whole new gathering of brothers and sisters here to share my life with."

Claire walked up to her. "Adelle, the room is empty. You can go in now and wait. I'll be along in a moment."

Adelle quietly nodded, looked briefly once again to the Circle, then left. She wove her way towards the doctor's office, then quietly shut the door behind her and stripped off her shirt. A moment later, Claire returned, carrying the tattoo machine.

"Ready for your birthmark?"

"Birthmark?" Adelle repeated.

"Priya came up with the name."

Fitting, considering she had come up with the idea. Adelle sighed, stretched across the gurney, and allowed Claire to disinfect the skin on her back. As the cool antiseptic dried in the air, Adelle looked quietly to the far wall where several photos were tacked onto a corkboard.

"You've been talking more pictures?" Adelle asked.

"Yes," Claire replied, and though Adelle didn't look, she could sense the smile in Claire's voice. "I figure someone should capture the good moments. Freeze-frame them. There's some pretty photos of almost everyone… with a few notable exceptions."

Adelle ignored the pointed remark; she hated standing for pictures, always had. Still, she could see that Claire's work with the camera was as admirable as her other talents in life. She studied one of Victor, then Sierra, and stopped, surprised, to discover one of November – the old November. Madeline Costley.

"Where did you get a picture of November?"

The buzz of the tattoo machine whirled in the air. "Her file," Claire explained. "I figured anybody that was a part of this family deserved a spot on our wall. Everybody should be remembered in case something happens, so that others can one day see the people that lived here. All the way from Bravo to Zulu."

Alpha needn't even merit a mention; thankfully, though, they hadn't had cause to think of him for months. True to his modus operandi, after killing Alana he'd disappeared like a billow of smoke after a raging fire.

"I should move the pictures somewhere else," Adelle suggested softly. "Somewhere where there's light."

After a heavy pause, Claire asked, "You're being left behind, aren't you?"

Adelle didn't feel the need to answer. The rumors had spread faster than wildfire; by now everyone knew about the deal she'd made with Echo. There was nothing further to discuss.

"So am I," Claire announced, and Adelle jerked up, surprised.

"What?"

"I'm staying."

"Why on god's Earth would you do that?" Adelle demanded.

Claire lifted an eyebrow. "Why do you think?"

The answer was quite obvious, once Adelle stopped to think about it. Boyd. He hadn't returned with Echo. In fact, Boyd had never reached Echo in the first place. They could only presume the worst for him now, and Adelle prayed that if he was dead, it had been a quick and painless demise.

"You can't waste your life away here," Adelle tried. "I know as well as anybody that Boyd is a capable man, but he… he is probably dead, Claire. Or worse."

Claire didn't even flinch. "Do you think Dominic is dead?"

Adelle couldn't answer – wouldn't, either way. Dominic's fate remained a maddening question mark since the day he'd left. Adelle tried to keep hopeful; she knew better than to discount Dominic's tenacity. Alpha may have been a genius – several geniuses, in fact – but Adelle hadn't kept Dominic around all these years just for his looks.

Still, hope was such a fickle thing in times like these.

They stared at one another, in complete understanding, then Adelle turned around as the buzz of the tattoo gun filled the air again.

"We're two fools, you realize?"

Claire gave a small mirthless laugh. "And here I thought we had nothing in common." She paused. "But we are different, too. If I knew where Boyd was, or even had a wild guess, there would have been nothing stopping me from going to him months ago. Quite frankly, I'm surprised you're still here."

"And where else would I be?"

Adelle flinched as Claire began her needlework.

* * *

As she helped Topher gather his books, she kept a brave smile firmly in place.

There was a stack of things they couldn't take, but Topher hadn't listened to a word she'd said and seemed determined to take all the piles of belongings littered around his inlaid sleeping chamber. It was this stubbornness that had become so endearing and maddening over the last few months, and Adelle watched him with something constricting in her throat.

A shadow passed over her, and Adelle turned. "You'll take care of Topher, won't you, Victor?"

It didn't matter what name she called him by; he always answered. Funny thing about imprints being wiped clean – they didn't quite work as advertised. The suppressed memories of many of the former actives were now resurfacing, and it was practically a new law of imprinting – neurons remembered. It just took time. It wasn't in the same league as the compositing that Echo and Alpha had gone through, but it was enough to make an impact on each person.

Michael had adapted quicker than most.

"Topher needs you," Victor replied. "I don't think I can do that job. I don't think anyone else can, either."

"It's for the best. Besides, I don't think I was doing him much good lately."

Victor paused, staring at her from the side. "You don't believe that."

It was nearly too much, and Adelle cleared her throat and blinked back the veneer of water over her eyes. Composing herself, she turned back to study Victor and found him dressed familiarly in tattered military fatigues. She had come to depend greatly upon him over the last few months, on his skills and his level head – on his friendship, too. She apparently had more than one painful goodbye ahead of her.

"You'll take care of yourself, too, won't you?"

He shrugged. "It'll take more than the end of the world to bring me down. Besides, I'm not really concerned about the future as long as I can remember my past. We'll be all right."

Adelle turned away, hoping Victor hadn't seen what was now flashing across her mind. For Adelle, the past always had a way of dredging up something horrific. There was a moment of internal struggle where Adelle fought with herself, but there was something that had waited long enough and she didn't think she'd ever get an opportunity after this.

Bracing herself with a sigh, she said, "Victor, there is… there is something I have to tell you. Something I need to apologize for. Years ago, there was an engagement, and a man named Roger—"

"Let me guess," Victor cut in, knowingly. "He was cultured, well-dressed, not afraid to challenge the woman he loved. Liked fencing." He smirked. "Roguishly handsome?"

It shouldn't have surprised her, but Adelle felt like the air had been knocked clear out of her lungs. She stared at him, shocked. "How long have you known?"

"A while," he admitted. "I think I always knew, on some level. Took a few months before the dreams started, but… yeah. _Those_ were some interesting dreams, and one hellava epiphany."

She didn't know whether to blush or cry or plead for forgiveness. For a while, they stared at one another and the… the mortification Adelle expected to feel never came. Victor didn't look angry; perhaps at one point he had been, but she couldn't sense any of that now.

"Why aren't you furious with me?"

"I think there's too much of Roger in me," Victor answered. "I don't think I could be angry at you for too long about anything. He was too madly in love with you."

He was programmed to, Adelle knew, but still the sentiment warmed her somewhat.

"There are no words," she said, "for what I did to you. Roger, Victor, Michael – whatever name you've gone by, you've been nothing but good to me. I don't deserve that. To apologize seems like such a trivial thing, but it's all I have. I'm sorry."

He studied her for a long, drawn-out moment, before he said sadly, "I know you are, Adelle."

It was neither an acceptance of her apology nor a dismissal, but Adelle knew, in the end, that it would do. They turned to watch Topher continue to pack his things away, the silence between them familiar and heavy.

* * *

Topher handled things just about as well as she expected him to.

"You're supposed to come with," he protested. "You're supposed to be there. You're supposed to be there when I figure it out! I'm close. There are three distinct and progressive states of transmarginal inhibition. The Equivalent, the Paradoxical, and the Ultra-Paradoxical. It's the third stage!"

"Toph—"

"—the third one where conditioned responses and behavior patterns turn from positive to negative or from negative to positive. With the progression through each phase, the degree of conversion becomes more effective and complete. I just have to break the barrier! So close! I just need time and space."

"Topher," she urged, tugging his chin up. "Stop. Listen. Promise me you'll be careful. Take care of yourself? Eat. Snack a little. I even saved you the last box of Jujubes—"

"You won't be there to give them to me," he whined. "You always take out the green ones. I hate the green ones."

She tried for a lighthearted tone. "I already took them out, Topher. You've made your opinions about them very clear in the past."

"They taste like rubber," he protested, like she was arguing with him about it.

"Topher," she stopped him. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

He nodded.

"Promise me."

He paused. "Only if you promise the same thing."

This was turning out to be more painful than she had anticipated. It took a moment for Adelle to find her voice. "I promise, Topher."

With a brief pause, he repeated her words and then hugged her, more clingy than anything else. She almost couldn't watch as Claire took Topher by the shoulders and then pulled him gently away. Claire flashed a brief sympathetic look at Adelle, and led him towards the elevator shaft where Victor and Sierra waited. They nodded at her, and she nodded back in acknowledgment. Topher would be in good hands.

She looked on as they left, one-by-one, climbing up the shaft of the elevator, and she felt something— she wasn't sure she could really give the emotion a name that would do it justice. _Grief_ seemed too inadequate and petty.

"I'll take care of them," Echo promised, bringing up the rear.

"You better," Adelle replied. "They're your responsibility now."

Echo paused, shifting from one foot to another in awkwardness. "Look, I'm not… I'm not a cold-hearted bitch. This isn't… this isn't the place for you anymore, and I get that. Come with us. Don't play the martyr now."

Adelle nearly smiled. "I never intended to, Caroline."

"Then why are you staying? 'Cause I never really asked you to, y'know?"

Adelle almost smiled. Sweet, reliable Caroline – still trying to save everyone, even those that were far beyond her reach. Adelle found that comforting, even if all those years ago she'd thought that trait problematic and insufferable.

"My place was never meant to be following in your footsteps," Adelle explained. "We're two sides of the same coin, Caroline. And we're not meant to coexist."

Echo snorted. "Which is a long-ass way of saying what?"

"You're their leader now, not me."

Silence stretched as they stared at one another and Adelle thought, finally, they saw eye-to-eye on something. She had met this woman years ago, another lifetime ago – several, depending on how one qualified things. They would never be friends, but Adelle thought they could at least part as something other than enemies.

"Good luck," Echo said.

"Godspeed," Adelle returned, and watched her leave.

* * *

  
 **Epilogue**

It took Adelle nearly three months to reach Zihuatanejo.

It was obvious that at one point in time, it had been a vibrant area but now there wasn't much to look at in the central region. The wreckage was as devastating as Adelle had seen in the US. Still, there were pockets near the coast where things were better. It was shockingly easy to maneuver around during daylight, and she'd only had to deal with two small skirmishes since crossing the border.

It had been a rough month, making her way here. She had a scar across her left thigh that still stung when she took a shower, not that those were frequent occasions. She was dressed in cargo pants, with a small black tank top that had the annoying habit of cropping up her belly repeatedly. The heat was nearly insufferable. Her hair was pulled back in a sloppy ponytail that left wisps of hair loose at the base of her damp neck, sticking to her skin in curls.

Still, the scenery was nearly enough to make the heat worth it. The ocean stretched out across as far as the eye could see, and there were half a dozen shades of blue water shimmering out, from baby to cerulean to teal to navy. She shaded her eyes with her hand, then glanced quietly to the coastline.

The man she had asked, an elderly Mexican fellow that she had managed to befriend, had given her easy directions and the place she was looking for wasn't far off. She stepped lightly across the white sandy beach, and followed the coastline until there, in the distance, she could see a boat docked at the end of the pier. It wasn't much to look at: old, rusty, and the sails were down for the moment – it was under repair.

The side of the boat held a name written in cursive yellow: _Adelle_.

Her breath caught in anticipation and she walked further down the beach. A familiar figure then appeared on the starboard side of the boat; tanned, wearing an old Hawaiian shirt that was loose and open at the collar, with khaki pants that just barely past his knees.

Apparently, Laurence Dominic had finally learned how to dress causally. She found the look suited him quite well, and Adelle had to stop for a moment, marveling at the sight of him. He was _here_. She had reached him after all this time; it was almost an impossible thing.

Her stroll at first was slow and unhurried. An emotion crept up from some forgotten place inside her: exhilaration, a feeling of tingling expectation that felt wonderful and novel. She brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes, imagining what she looked like and there was time enough for just a small bout of self-consciousness to rise before Dominic looked up and caught her gaze.

The instant he spotted her, she stopped. The anticipation turned inwards, caving in the pit of her stomach, and suddenly she couldn't make her limbs move. She just stared, breath caught in her throat as Dominic took in the sight of her, watching his face change in recognition. Then he was moving. He hopped over the side railings, walked down the pier and onto the sands. His stride had a purpose to it, a swiftness that brought him towards Adelle before she could recover enough to think of something to say.

Two more strides, and when he reached her, she opened her mouth to greet him but Dominic unceremoniously grabbed the back of her neck and tugged her to him. His mouth roughly claimed hers, and then suddenly, the ability to move came rushing back because Adelle couldn't _not_ respond. Fingers tangled messily through hair, tongues invading and warring, and there was that frantic swell of desire that surged every time Dominic touched her.

He kissed her again and again and again, and there was such a raw animistic desperation to his kisses, sloppy and needy and entirely overwhelming. Neither seemed to care that they were outside, exposed and vulnerable. The handgun he'd given her rested cool against her back, along the dip of her spine, and there was another she could feel tucked neatly under his waistband. It was hardly the thing fairytales were made of, but there was this sense of finality to the moment, that this was the end of her journey and the destination was freedom. Redemption. Forgiveness.

He pulled back. "What took you so long?"

"I had a few things to wrap up, Mr. Dominic."

She reached for his hand, and he took it.

* * *

  
 _Fin_


End file.
